Poetry

A crooked smile to keep

Gossamer, it floated past

Unnoticed, soft as shadows,

Fine silk caught on a nail

Light and tenuous and

as hollow bird bones,

their downy feathers.

I can see my veins too easily,

They’re too blue, too bright,

Exposed,

I could look fragile.

Make me solid,

Anchor me,

Give me iron feet

and a crooked smile to keep –

            A familiar place to wait.

Isabelle Grimshaw

© 2014