and i wonder when this joint will blow
first the knee and then i'll tumble
from my feet to sprawl on the floor
and i wonder how you would grieve
as if for one of your plants
that never quite bloomed
but was only showing hints of colour
or for a black and white photo
of a stranger you never quite knew.
1 comment:
porcelain dolls have always seemed slightly sad to me...my sisters used to have them, with painted expressions so delicately beautiful. and, being children, they'd always accidentally drop these dolls, and they'd end up chipped or smashed into little fragments of sharp porcelain. Once my sister had one and the back of the head shattered and she was so upset about it, and she tried gluing it back together with a lot of help from my mum, It was even sadder in a way, that beautifully haunting expression, sleeping so serenly and yet so somberly, and a once smooth head now running with a lattice of see-through glue. It was so sad. But it was just a doll, so you just felt sad and that was that.
That's what this poem makes me think of. And yet again, amazing job. I love the line about the black and white photo of a stranger you never quite knew. Reminds me of those old photo albums that you see in peoples houses or those framed memories you see on mantlepieces. You knew someone who knew the person, but you didn't know them, but they're dead, so now you never will. good emotion
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