Somewhere Else
That was in a different land.
Where babies were born smiling and spoke my name,
and clutching a teddy bear I boarded a bus
with no destination.
Where the nuns were all men in drag
and nobody took any notice,
and all I had in the bank was five pounds
and a false nose,
very pink, very long, very rubbery.
Where silver coins littered the streets
and fell through my fingers,
and people I had never met
knew their way around my home.
Where the bright outline of the sun and moon
were seen together just above the trees,
and French loaf clouds whirled like toy windmills,
at my command.
Where I flew a fleet of stunt kites in formation
and brought all twenty-one of them
to the ground at once, untangled.
And I saw a white dove waiting.
Yes, that was in a different land.
Where a freak snowstorm covered fields of poppies
in thick volcanic ash,
and I appeared in public wearing no mascara
before the women who were tall, beautiful, and thin.
Where doors would not lock against black bulls
or pure white panthers,
and men watched unconcerned as I,
dressed in a long red skirt,
saved drowning children from a tidal wave.
Where the dead were never buried,
they refused to die,
they merely offered new laid eggs
that cracked as I took them in my hand.
Where my scream came out as a whisper,
and my voice was never heard,
and my missing husband turned up,
beneath the floorboards,
and in pieces.
And I tried to escape in a tight, tight skirt
and very high heels,
with guilt written in my eyes,
as a crowd of dark cloaked figures closed behind.
Where I ran and ran in a blind, damp swamp
until I reached a too blue sky.
Into the blue, the only place to hide.
But that was in a different land,
and flying came naturally after all.
