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First Dream – by Diane Frank

Posted on Sep 2, 2017 by in September 2017 | 1 comment

There’s a deep, dark hole
in the open space
where the bathroom’s supposed to be.
You could fall down there
to the coal lady.

My crib is made of iron
black as the world around my tiny eyes
round and open.
Below the crib are two orange lights
the kind that signal
while you wait for the train.

Listen, the train could be coming!
Down from the stars
and straight into the blackness
where I am waiting.
It could come and take me . . .

Back to what I knew
before I milli-inched my way
down the long corridor.
Back to the space
where I couldn’t distinguish my mother
from a tree.

I crawl over the wrought iron,
inch my way down the ramp
slowly beyond the dark space
where you could fall down
to the coal lady.

My father
is in the livingroom
with two of his friends from college.
I remember the college –
he took me there on his shoulders.
He doesn’t really notice me
as I crawl up on his lap –
safe from the orange fire
of the coal lady,
far away from the darkness
and the train.

1 Comment

  1. Note from Diane: This poem is reprinted from Isis: Poems by Diane Frank. Isis is the Egyptian Goddess of love, healing and resurrection. We need to reclaim her.

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