A cage has broken high above
freeing what seems a million paper doves.
They fold their wings into their chests,
tuck their beaks underneath; overlapping the rest
of their insufferable form.
Distinguished silently;
on gravestones blanketed nameless,
on statues made faceless
and every other thing below.
Like a mothers fingers on a childs bedtime lips;
hush, a mobile carnival of light playing a dim slideshow
and then the light slipping from the door
like the last light between coffin and sky.
A young girl belly down on the floor
colouring in a picture, with less to colour than before;
in front of a house disproportionate;
with all the peoples scribbled smiles forced and awkward,
lipstick out of line.
Eyes the same rushed blue anguish of the sky;
as though it all were broken, behind a composed mask
like someone mourning in a mirror,
trying to not hand over a tear
to a world that has already taken too much.
Mascara streaking down a pale face
like black chandeliers.
With wrists cut like thermometers split,
mercury unwilling to spill;
turning hard as does the skin
not ready for that final thrill.
I think someone from their window
must have been gazing at the sky;
hoping for his departed love
to offer some kind of reply
.. and the cage unlocked in that supposed air,
releasing all those mysterious sticky notes left everywhere.
Was now feeling less alone
watching all those mute couples in the street
in tiers and tiers of snow
like a wedding cake; except
the figurines are on the bottom layer
all hurrying to get indoors.
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