Saturday, June 15, 2013

Saturday Poetry: The Big Blonde

from Turn Left at the Dead Dog:

There are dreams
that belong to you
long before you know what to do with them.
You are memory’s steward
so that when
a dream comes, it is
as the comics say
déja vu all over again.

It’s not the first time since childhood
she’s been on my mind
The big blonde, sheathed in black
singing into the studio microphone
back when
Jazz was a thing supreme.
Remote then, behind the glass
not to be touched, a porcelain doll
Inviolate.

Now she greets me at the Shipyard’s gate.
My head bows as sunlight bursts off her platinum hair.
I just know behind the tortoiseshell frames
there are sapphires glistening on her face.
Then she smiles at me
Teeth couched in fuchsia lips.
For me time stops.
I am awake.

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