Skip to content

Tin Dreams

I, an echo

a big-city girl.

I played in the streets

desires resonating into dreams

spiraling to black.

Destitute, rattled by change.

My heart hung heavy with lead,

fillings for shrapnel words

that pierced my heart,

captured my future.

Shaken,

a whole now broken

the value now less

than a basket of tin.

Our childish games

led us here to a game played with pawns wrapped in blankets

plodding on cardboard squares.

His eyes,

the color of aluminum.

Cheap.

His scent

once comforting,

smoldered in my nostrils,

fire and ammonia.

We lived

a dream made of cutouts

a diorama

decomposed.

Bodies thin,

the texture of yellowed newspaper.

I deconstructed,

a crumpled can

discarded.

© 2009 by Michelle Ferris

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: