Wednesday, 11 November 2015

Degas

By a bridge I cannot name
we stop to buy posters
bring home papercuts and strange words
Frame them in pastels
and put them up

On a wooden square
in a yellow room
a girl in wax
frames her body beyond five
Looks away with a face
that I forget to leave

In the quiet moments
I draw dancers
Limbs awkward
eyes solemn
They are beginning to look like me.

No comments:

Post a Comment