Friday, February 09, 2007

Dragons ~~ anna hood ~~

Once again I dream:
I am six curled up beside my sister
tucked tight under the eaves
of our little gingerbread
Outside the moon
her bones, eyes and wings
her polished face
embroidered onto the gentle black
cloak of night spills
over the sill splashes silver
my sister’s hair
tints her eyelids mauve pale.

They flutter
hiding her green eyes,
bright as bird song.
Green as spring
my mother used to say
or liquid Palmolive soap
or new lettuce or the wine bottles
in her paintings or my sister’s eyes.

My eyes are grey
the pupils outlined in black
like a funeral notice
like rainy mornings, like
shingle houses on a stormy Cape
Cod, grey as the owl who takes me
to the scary dreamland I visit.
My mother never painted my eyes
too drab perhaps for her
paintbox of brilliance
My mother never painted me
a green eyed dragon.

As her dreams take her
slipping sliding
between realities
my sister’s mouth curves
into the technicolour world
she visits each night
the vein on her neck
thin as blue silk thread
pulses her breath a ghost of wind.
She’s gathered into a ball
in her favourite Snoopy
nightie shapeless as an amoeba.
Curtains of blonde hair
the colour stolen
from a January sun
ice the pillow.

I want to siphon them
away, those dreams
take them for my own
enter her cotton candy world
my own mouth curving up
into my sister’s eyes
into my mother’s paintings.
But no. I’m down here alone
in my black and white dreams
where the only bright thing
is my sister’s green eyes.

I am tired of these dreams
tired of writing poems
about dead friends
and lovers.
I’m tired of winter.



Blogger Dafath said...

o, anna,

your beautiful sadness
brings spring to the winter
an early daffodil


8:25 AM  
Blogger anna said...

hey Al Bear, if only it would bring a daffodil here. I must go to the florist although the Big Galoot brings a pot of crocus every valentine's day. I can hardly wait for them
Thanks for the lovely comment!

9:36 AM  
Blogger Saaleha said...

Poor, poor Anna. I send you a huge blast of summer. Watermelon pink and mango yellow. The smell of flowers in full bloom and the coo of the turtle dove. Your words, though they speak of sadness are much to beautiful to sadden the heart. Thank you for sharing...

11:07 AM  
Blogger anna said...

Ooh Saaleha, watermelon and mango
and the smell of flowers. wonderful! thank you so much
I feel better already.

6:34 PM  
Blogger Susan Abraham said...

What beautiful poetry in spite of its concluding resignation that adds on the nice curl to a twist.

Lucid images hit me like the throw of gems...animated and sparkling.

The line below, stays a favourite:

Outside the moon
her bones, eyes and wings
her polished face
embroidered onto the gentle black
cloak of night spills
over the sill splashes silver
my sister’s hair
tints her eyelids mauve pale.

8:28 PM  
Blogger Bernita said...

Beautiful, Anna.
Am I wrong -do you know embroidery?

3:56 AM  
Blogger Roberta said...

Beautiful Anna, whistfully written. Envy of things so beautiful is such a touching human quality.

My sister has ice blue eyes. I've never tried to paint them. I have wanted to pluck them out a time or two. (childish anger)

Looking out my office window, there are six inches of snow in the yard.

I too miss the daffodils.......sigh

6:31 AM  
Blogger anna said...

Susan, Glad to see you! and such a nice comment! thank you

Bernita, thanks for reading. the only thing I can embroider is clumsy words.

Hey Roberta, funny about sisters isn't it? When we were kids we fought all the time but now --
I'd still like to pick those green eyes out heee!

9:07 AM  
Blogger Atyllah said...

Oh, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Sigh... wistful, whimsical, evocative.

Winter's ending, spring's just around the corner... soon the light will return. I sent you rays of golden sunshine, blue skies, the chirrup of birds, drifting breezes, children's laughter from the poolside, sun-soaked bodies on shimmering sands, shards of light glancing off the ocean. A good slice of summer pie.

12:19 AM  
Blogger anna said...

hey Atyllah, after just reading your post on fatties although i dearly love summer berry pie
you've ruined it for me. RUI--
well maybe not. who can resist(not I)warm from the oven with freshly whipped cream
thanks for the lovely comment.
as always I appreciate it!

4:00 AM  
Blogger apprentice said...

Grey eyes act as mirrors on the world, so I like yours the best.
Winter has returned here too.

2:44 AM  
Blogger anna said...

Hi Anna, I will never think of my grey eyes the same way again.
Thank you. Hope you are keeping warm. brrrr it is so cold here!

3:34 AM  
Blogger jason evans said...

or liquid Palmolive soap....

Perfect description.

My favorite theme in this piece is how so much meaning and metaphor is wound into the eyes. Very true. And the bittersweet jealousy.

Brilliant, Anna.

1:17 PM  
Blogger anna said...

once again my thanks Jason.
Perhaps you should have been a dr.
I think you'd have the perfect bedside manner.

1:08 PM  

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