Friday, 30 April 2010
I have reached the end of NaPoWriMo. (Big sigh). I will post my thoughts on how I think it went later. For now, I need to take a break. Thanks to all of you who have been reading my poetry all through April and for the responses I have received (both on-line and off-line) it has been much appreciated and is truly what has kept me going.
how it deconstructs
Looking up I see one nostril filled
with bulging green snot
in a four-year old's nose
as he announces from the top of a slide
how he is going to descend.
A three-year old begins to understand
counting, how it deconstructs the mass,
separates one thing from another. How
the mother duck calls for her five ducklings,
but only two come back.
With coloured plastic shapes
that link, together
we have been making flowers
and dogs, encouraging
Suddenly his bottom lip wobbles,
he wants his mother. How long
until Mum comes? he asks me.
I explain that the big hand
has to go around five times yet.
He is a child who does not do
childcare centres well.
Home with his mother
is where he feels real and whole.
And I'd do anything
to make his mother appear
at the door, anything to stop
the world for him
as tears run down his cheeks
like light lost in the rain.
Kay McKenzie Cooke
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