December 11, 2009

I cannot believe that she was my dressing gown

boo saville

Madeline McCann was lying
as a pile of crumpled flannel
under the haze of the drizzle
of the morning’s curtain smog.

The fabric folded around her
face, pleating blonder hair
around the heavy hand resting
on her concave cheek.

She lay like a statue. A toppled
-don’t say fallen, she was never
fallen- statue. Don’t, there was
no sediment. There was no dust.

I did nothing.

- No comments Not publicly viewable

Add a comment

You are not allowed to comment on this entry as it has restricted commenting permissions.

December 2009

Mo Tu We Th Fr Sa Su
Nov |  Today  | Jan
   1 2 3 4 5 6
7 8 9 10 11 12 13
14 15 16 17 18 19 20
21 22 23 24 25 26 27
28 29 30 31         

Search this blog


Most recent comments

  • Cool for cats. Not so much for dogs. by Inhelm on this entry
  • Are you waiting for the ombudsman? by Inhelm on this entry
  • Indeed. I don't need a parachute Baby if I've got you I don't need a parachute Not at all, if you ca… by Inhelm on this entry
  • I watched "The Undercover Princesses" on playback TV and found it quite entertaining. The princesses… by Sue on this entry
  • I knew you'd disagree, William Grove. Sometimes I feel like your vehicle and it's not an Aston Marti… by Sue on this entry

Blog archive

Not signed in
Sign in

Powered by BlogBuilder