why why why

NovPAD Day 29 (Truth Poem)

Under a giant mural of parrots the bus draws in
for the woman with the purple wheelie-bag
for the man whose head shines in the sun 
and for the girl whose uniform is crumpled 
and whose plaits-ends touch gently her wrists.
and the crows ask why why why.

She knows that confidence is skin tight
but wonders if she had china doll make-up
and heat-pad straight hair and eyes like planets
wonders if then certainty would reach outside herself.
She feels her heart beat on the seat in front,
she has wrists like the throats of lilies
and the crows ask why why why.

Up the weight of hill the bus groans
exhaustion leaking like ink from a pen.
Here’s her stop now and people dribble off
fading against concrete in the tambourine night
She says “I believe in the Earth”
and her wrists trail blue-smoke veins
and the crows ask why why why.

In her garden the peonies stand for the rain 
and the worms writhe like antithesis. 
She pauses to learn truth from the roses,
but breath is faint and murder is whispers
and thorns slip like thieves on the threshold
and her wrists cry red, beaded tears
and the crows ask why why why.