The bird singing my song, tireless and blue. Alas, there was everyone at the funeral but me.

Good nigh

Written by Tanya Singh

I saw the shadow of the wind dance,
Like a sky rocketing to the chasms of my pockets,
A dime or two fell out of the haggard sweater,
And jumped right into the fountain,
But we had no wishes to keep,

Playing onto the dreams placed for sale in the yard,
and we knew we could do with money,

Avoiding the look of guilt, I picked up a few coins,
Merrily walked my way,
In and out the covers, rolling like the dusty
Hamburger on the side of a bargain cut loose,
I smiled at the sickening stranger I couldn’t recognise,
I couldn’t hear the sound she made,
Or the way her arms fanned up to hold me across,
Covering me in a tired tangerine,

But I pushed her down the stairs,
Watched her scars rot among the stars, ailing bitter,
Bruises right below her finger nails were painted black,
And I saw my soul dance with the wind,
not a tad bit uncanny, fading with the tang-eerie,
I saw my shadow perched up on the tree,
The bird singing my song, tireless and blue,

Alas, there was everyone at the funeral but me.

– Previously Published at: Dear Damsels (https://deardamsels.com/2017/03/10/good-nigh/)

 

 

 

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