Paris, 1867

There’s a deep hush now, on my exit.All that’s left is the faint raspingof trombone slides and music stands,the rustling of a breathless orchestra under our feetThe house lights dim to twilightand the velvet curtain skims the stagewhile stage-hands dressed in shadowssilently dismantle the scene.I am winded in the wings.The buzzing inside my head is … Continue reading Paris, 1867

(New) Arrival(s)

To be labeled as a new arrival,in maternity wards, at baggage claims, a shop’s window display,softly pink and weary travels and small paper tags.To be born, to be delivered, to be bought and to be sold. Or perhaps it’s a Christmas gift wrapped in shiny red paperand safely tucked under an aluminum tree.Another trinket, another … Continue reading (New) Arrival(s)