White Lies

Poetry

your small body

fell from mine

my white lies – unthreaded

 

 

 

myself unrecognisable

dark hours

held you – comfort itself

 

 

 

shiny streaks of

thought

falling out – like hair

 

 

 

they told me

mothering would be

a thousand hours of – you

 

 

 

with your miraculous skin

and your own eyes

folded – at last – to sleep

 

 

 

so broken and rebuilt

renovation so complete

to see the true streaks – of silver

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