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.