Poetry and other Joys
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Wreckage and Memories
I adore the thought of living in your
(So much is made of dying there, as though that
Safe and sheltering peace is only necessary then.)
My love, the past has taught me fear.
I am the child, afraid of monsters.
I am the girl, afraid of loss.
I am your woman, afraid of failure.
And they have found me, each of them.
Child I was stood and faced
Monsters of the moments.
Then the girl tried to lose herself,
Become invisible, asexual.
Woman remembers and writes of love and fear.
From the dropping of the liquid in the glass,
There has been a sense that change is coming.
The frail Key deer prick up their ears.
The pressure lower, lower yet ...
Perversely releasing itself in storm.
You and I shall survey our future
And cast about in wreckage and memories.
(I adore the thought of living in your arms.)
~ Delilah Riordan, June 08, 1998