SHE

I need inspiration, she cried

Monotony did the trick no more
Desperation caused no ripples

The bastard dog quietly sat
Within the circumference
Of her self professed annoyance
Against the world
His convulsive laughter
Failed to fathom
Her brave attempts at art

The old hag who sat
Where the road began
Was engrossed in the morsels
He ate, out of a polythene

Yes, he heard her
In her steps approaching
Then receding without a sound
Into the possibility of another path

His curly unwashed hair
Smelling of ages of inertia
Had no sense of the movement
On her merciless soles

Inspiration!
Her words were trapped
In the particles of air
Suspended in space

A crow, flying past
Her ruminating thoughts
Sat on her clothesline
As she stood by her window

Still, as the afternoon air
On a hot summer’s day
The reverse music of a car
Refused to move her spirit

What’s my name again?
She thought, wandering
In her kitchen, hall and balcony
Walls echoed her voice

Anticipation, inspiration
Perhaps violation
Wiped away her name
In a frothy wave

Her little sky of contemplation
Clean to the core
Asked for another piece
Of the passing shadows

The child in her heart
Drew funny shapes on
The ceiling and blew
Bubbles of soap water

Only with her eyes
The child tugged
At her apron, soiled
In dust and sweat

A question for her
Little sky, the child had
Asking her to measure
Her steps back

How far will you go from me?
The child asked her
Why do you look back
In anticipation?

In answer, she went
To meet to meet the waves
And took the child
Along with her

The setting orange ball
Smiled back in amusement
At the child who lit up
The darkness that began to fall

She picked up a shell
And waited for the moon
As the frothy waves
Wiped her name away