Listing on an even Keel

My memories were like drops of ivy on my acid flesh.

Dew in the morning

and rain falls at night.

My hands were like splinters that belonged

to the jagged edge of some foreign plant.

It was unusual to have them attached to me.

My eyes conveyed a certain amount of space,

space, that as I am sure would have been lost to me any

other time then this.

I was, an arrow, shot from far below, and landed too high.

My mornings were soft, and tilted,

in my little corner where their was no privacy from everyone else.

That's when I saw him.

It seemed strange to the others,

and everyone around me,

that I would have such a visitor.

Me, a respectable girl, had a man visit.

I know that for a moment, I myself was also alarmed.

Like a beeping red light that would not surrender its duty

until I was far off the ground.

I knew the knowledge that he was seeking to find.

And I myself scared to say it.

One of the lady's near by went with me to

my vary public room, and with her I searched.

I was looking or clothes,

or at least that's what I thought that I was looking for.

Clothes that belonged to him.

I searched for what seemed like hours,

But to the knowledge of the too stepped clock on the

wall I was mistaken and it had only been a matter of minutes.

I walked, a walk of shame, back to my parapet.

Where underneath I found him waiting.

Sullen and in solitude,

like the branch to my unprotected feet,

and my white dress

that as one of the children said made me look like an angel.

I looked down to him and without speaking

his look grew more dire.

I did not speak, yet words flowed from my mouth like tears,

tears to painful to stay for.

I know that now, because he turned and walked away,

into the world that I found such joy to think of

but never the strength to find.

The same lady who had helped me search

came up from behind me, putting her arm around my shoulders,

she said. "Don't worry, you'll find another."