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Showing posts from August, 2012

Hallucinations in Pink

It was a short and steady poem from an age  when people wrote letters.  Papers of dust from the underworld opened like woven cobwebs  drown you in smell  and later,  hallucinations. and I see a pink doll frock washed carefully  and left to dry. While I wait with my little dolly at the kitchen door I tell her stories of princesses  in pink gowns. and of our evenings, flights of fancies.  She had chubby cheeks for me to kiss and yellow curls. so that,  I could dream.