Linda M. Crate: two poems
fumbling shadow once alive
the matchstick girl
fumbles her fingers,
and is given
no mercy for it;
she has one job they tell her
one job and she is failing—
they see her tears,
but they do not know or care
to see her pain;
forsaken by everyone she only
has herself and her shadow
like ink upon the snow but there
is nowhere she can call home
but her tragedy
so she continues to singing
though with every note her heart is
further breaking—
there is no happy ending,
and no knight to save her and she
has not strength enough to leave this place;
trapped in dire straights
she continues with the job that steals away
a part of her soul
because rent won't pay itself after all
even if she can't eat
she tells herself it's worth it to see the moon
in the night sky.
freed of hedging
if there was
an inter rupture
would it be the same
as being
interrupted?
because you shattered so many
things inside of me
i don't know if i'll ever get them
all sewn back together
some wounds supercede even scars,
and always remain
as salt;
you burn in my memories
how many hours
slip away
out of the hour glass as i remain in this
place of you and i?
go now, goblin king,
here in this place there is only room for once of us
i will remain—
too many hours, too many days
wasted in that place
of you & i
now it's only me,
and i will not weep;
for i am freed of your hedging.
Published in WINK: Writers in the Know, issue 1