The axe was blunt and the bird
fluttered vibrant with life.
Startled I awoke in a room
bathed in amber light.
Mama came and kissed my eyes
and I heard the rustle of leaves.
In a forest of verdant green,
trees swayed in restless sleep.
I stumbled and fell, in falling
found roots, smelt the earth, felt
crawling things behind my ear.
From sleep I stirred and whispered ‘papa�?
In slumber I heard the bowl
on the pine wood. Mama unclothed
to the waist and papa with jug
pouring water over raven hair.
Come morning fickle leaves
are clothed white with frost. |
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