Thoughts of the self held in dry paper, paint and wood.
Floating grandparents, a circle of life,
Brittle as a fleshless leg.
For one who was picked out of the trash,
Nothing grew well in her except her cleverness.
She shuffled with it locked inside
Until the mirror faces shone;
Velvet, dark chocolate Botticelli’s
With stiff eel fingers and eyebrow moustache.
Sentinel Poetry #33
Online Magazine Monthly, August 2005. ISSN 1479-425X. Editor: Amatoritsero Ede