Lost Property
She went home once,After a call
she had been out dancing
all night
too much champagne
and blisters
on her feet
The phone rang and rang
and she ran hiccupping
stumbling
and breathless
she answered.
The phone distorts
and contorted
she didn't recognise the voice,
it was her brother
stern and tall
bristling whiskers
and always
'doing the right thing'
like ringing.
She took a train,
rode a bus
hailed a cab
that took her to
the iron gates
where she gagged,
sagged against the
stone pillar.
The maid took her coat
sallow faced and
entombed in
sombre etiquette,
disapproving
of a daisy dress
and tripping heels.
Dust sheets
and auctioneer tags
a list, and black armbands.
Armand was there
whistling through his bristles
with Analiese, so anorexic
and sporing her offspring
as she ground heels into parquet
and couldn't wait until sunshine
melted onto her body
and when she left
she took off her shoes
ran to the fountain
through the tat and tears
and screamed with sheer relief
Afterwards in a cab
she did cry
on a train
she left the bag
and waltzed
to another party
the daisies on her dress
slightly mired, slightly messed
she never did recover
Sometimes one can only be
Lost Property
Poetry by Elle
Read 820 times
Written on 2015-11-06 at 20:37
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