I floated
to the ceiling
& stuck there
like a Christmas balloon
then I slowly
drifted
through the open window
startling
a passing starling
amazed at a human
invading his space.
There was a silly smile
on my face.
My other body
lay on the bed
wrestling with a temperature
of 103 degrees.
There was I
& there was me
both of
us
in this
together.
I swimming
through the air
getting caught
in the gossamer
strands of bird song
clinging on to me
like cobwebs
while the real me
who appeared to be really ill
burned
alive
in
himself.
The smell of sausages
ran up the stairs
as I faded
into a wallpaper rose
dissipated
like a ghost
amongst
the dust motes
crying for the coolness
of my big sister’s flannelled hand.
Sigh, , , it's very gorgeous. And a little sad? Get well soon if its true and if its not, very well done for evoking such tender emotions. HG: -) xx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The memory permeates so intensively through the years, like this intrusive smell of sausages, climbing up the stairs of the time... metaphysical experience which touches the reader so tangible - one can almost feel the flanelled hand touch...