Jilly Laughs and I Cry
I.
Jilly's laugh is somewhere between
a hiccup and a sigh
teeth shimmering
little porcelain cups
like the ones
I used in
Victorian doll houses
when I was five
perfectly glazed and rounded.
II.
Her
late arrival
like a Picaso painting
brightly colored
flecks of roses and blues
all feet and limbs
flailing
simultaneously
in proportion to her belly.
III.
Yesterday
she flew
over a crack in the sidewalk.
We had been eating
wild strawberries,
her fingers were dyed with them
and her blood,
it fell to the sidewalk
in perfect red rain drops.
I think
my heart stumbled
in it's puddle.
Copyright © Jennifer Brooks | Year Posted 2005
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