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 The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 857 times
Written on 2015-11-06 at 20:37

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
A wonderful story linked together in short pieces. So interesting and intriguing :)
2015-11-12


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Your poems with their fragmentary memories are almost like cubist paintings. I liked this one a great deal. If it's any comfort to you, I know that feeling.
2015-11-07


Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Lost Property like Lost Poetry never kisses and tells.x
2015-11-06