Three fantastic dances
It was the middle of the night
when the house moved
down the road with its weird
experimental music.
Our lives
went along with it,
formed an accompaniment
of sorts.
We cracked wine
glasses with our wedding
rings, grew soft white
hair, bottled pears
in unusual ways.
And then a gecko
came among us
pale as moon
on the old lino
of the bathroom floor.
It was as if a silent
letter was suddenly
there, in the name
of our lives.
Together we looked and
wondered at the still
fright in its
body, the way its feet
longed for familiar
ground.
Fright. We worried
it would die of it.
It couldn’t know we
didn’t mean harm.
Finally we found a way
to free it.
It left quickly,
silently, its soft feet
welcoming the stones.
We went inside,
the silent letter turning
over and over in our minds
like a prayer.
From How We Met (VUP, 1995)
© Jenny Bornholdt
|
