Medication
A wisp of oxygen coated in nicotine
A Pavlova tutu caught in the snare
Of a petticoat flooding like a
Mouthful of cigar smoke, rupturing
Clouds and folds beneath her
Like the angel of a Christmas tree
The cold glass eyes, filled like
A champagne flute, their cataracts
And dead black amnesiac stares
Watching and forgetting in an instant
Saline girl approaching like a panzer man
Caught in a bubble, completely
Separated, the heavy gate slammed
The cemetary forging into the photo frames
Those wide eyes told tales but
Now they sit on a shelf of wrinkles
Expressing pain for those young ones
Are gone now like the mothers chained
To parliament gates, fighting endlessly
Under the snow globes of petticoats
The netted window of sickness catching
Out shadows, the bubble, a fish
Bowl, her hand catching the rough salt
Watering the flesh. White apron, thick crimson cross.
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