作者dieEule (邦婕)
看板poetry
標題[創作] Things Collected
時間Sun May 15 11:36:44 2011
There's a bracelet
That I once gave to a boy,
But he gave it back.
He thought it was a length of rope,
And he didn't want his wrist
To be hanged.
There's a deck of cards
That misses a King and a 3
When you want to play;
I took it out on purpose,
It was too predictable
When the number was designated,
But I never told anyone,
Because I didn't want them to get mad.
There's a poem that I copied
On a slip of paper
When I was young.
I wanted it to be my maxim when I grew up,
Because the words were difficult
And beautiful,
And I wanted to be that,
Instead of a person who wore her prose
On her sleeve.
There is a plait of hair,
Dead and fragrant.
I sheared it off after it had
Grew to its longest.
It was an initiation test before junior high,
They make you lose the things
You have the most control of.
Some days I look at it
And am frightened,
It is the shining black corpse
Of something that was never alive.
There is a tin box
Where I keep all those things in
And sealed silent.
And there are the days
When I'm lonely
Like I was when I was a child,
Collecting things that couldn't talk,
Saving memories too waifer-thin
To endure the waterings of time.
Those are the days
That I crumble myself
Into a ball of failed paper
And squat in the box to survive.
--
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