She dreams herself a chair - Poem by Eva Cox
She dreams herself a chair,
rope round the ankles,
metal of a barrel in the neck.
But nothing compels.
Nothing that wrings words from her fingers.
The wrists tied to pans and buckets,
the mouth to a mouth, the heart to two dolls.
In the distance the pen.
Splinter in the yellow lamplight of the room.
Between herself and life out there a web of voices
that stops her. Like a crazed ball.
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