Monday, October 12, 2009


I long to see you in an old light. In your first rain. In the dance you wore to monsoon communions. In a time before the taking of photographs or the invention of tears. See you as you were before the flashbulbs of beauty, in an age of crooked teeth and stringy hair. You standing there, in the shadow of who you would become, like a girl beneath a billboard, trying to light a match.


Anonymous said...

Very, very beautiful.

equivocal said...

I like how that image in the last sentence could only have come from life.

Ms.Mephistopheles said...


Falstaff said...

Anon: Thanks

equivocal: Actually, it sort of comes from a Lynda Hull poem, but thanks.

Ms M.: Thanks