Magpie Dreams by Joan Harvey
- Apr 27
- 1 min read
Magpie Dreams
The snow moves in
Light drifts through fog
I wake too early
I sleep too late.
She doesn’t write
She doesn’t call
I remember how
She smoked in bed.
The fog at least
Is beautiful
There are no animals
In her life
Her lover’s children
Don’t reject her.
She plays some chess.
And sets her hopes
On the telephone.
Returning to the fatherland
It’s no wonder
She goes mad.
Her childhood bed
Nests her in fire.
She can escape
But only briefly
Until she no longer
Leaves the house.
A man who knows
His weapons well
Appoints himself
Her caretaker.
Each day she shrinks
A little more.
Each day she’s there
A little less.
Eventually
She disappears.
In fog filled light
A magpie picks
A scattered bone.
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