Monday, November 27, 2006

A haunting, diluted blue glass case.
Imprisoned, with a butterfly painted face.
The little girl with trembling fingers reached up,
fraying dress surpassing bent knees,
red shoes balancing a trapeze on the tiny step
leading up to her distant grave.
A sheet of crystal hair draped across the wooden box
as the girl slanted askew to catch a glimpse.
Fingers straining outwards , feet stretching upwards,
the taut string of balance was broken in an adjacent slip.
Grabbing the wooden box with slender fingers,
the girl fell back to the marble earth.
A shatter of light fell across the broken scene;
the box was cracked along the seam,
the tiny girl on the expanding floor.
Lifetimes ticked away, the light across her face darkened.
A thousand years ago...
A snap in porcelain and paint.
A fragment from past catacombs and once life.
A flutter like blinking from the wooden box.
And life too suddenly sprung - a paroxysm cutting through the leftover shards.

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