The calenders pile up in a neat stack.
I knew they would.
I tried to forget about them
yet the days…
I am older now and still a child
but time is a thirsty germ.
I have one year left to play in this lot
and am afraid.
Some people think about
what they do
or the school they are to lose.
Others just let a river go by.
I never see what I am looking at.
I see what I think.
At night life is blue waves,
piers with stairs going down,
people who jump off and frighten
fish who swim away,
boy who dive from the top of the rail.
This is my real life.
She was eleven when she wrote this, how true is the eye if left to be child. Taken from the book The Real Tin Flower, and I must admit I got this old book because I wondered why would someone I’ve not heard of have a foreword by Anne Sexton. The poems in The Real Tin Flower are accompanied by illustrations, of a time frozen behind my eye. Here are some of the vintage needlepoint work Stevie has started to collect. You see, ever since the world could snarl and sneer, she could also smooth and smile.
If you, like me, see unparalleled joy in these woody picture frames, come down to Stevie. Or watch our collection grow 🙂