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Sport 39: 2011
Life’s Longing
Life’s Longing
She was guarding us from death,
gliding down the worn linoleum
corridors on her sheet of ice,
appearing in the wrong ward.
Her face, snowflake pale, freckles
fainting into her tissue skin,
her hair the fading red
of a drowning sun.
We all sat. Backs to the wall
in a patchwork of armchairs,
pinned to the day’s routine,
treading time in our glass slippers.
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She watched from the door,
the shutters of her sight half closed
but her visions clear.
She saw my eyes whispering.
They would hurry her back
through the locked door, raise
serious questions about how
she appeared as if the answers
would grow in our wasteland.
Before I circled the drive
to search for the hidden gate
she was there, scarcely brushing
the air when she moved
to my side, giving me a touch
of light and life’s longing.
They dragged her away
into the padded scream
of her own shadow.