Whispering sibilance begins early,
crib barred,
shadows dancing,
no, no, no…
see baby scarred.

Jerkiness of childhood prancing,
fenced yard,
sunshine shafting,
"do you see…
how you are?"

Mirrored image mocks cold feelings,
teenage prison,
smallness grafting,
suddenly…
you are there.

Time warp weeping, certain lacking,
unknown idiom,
creeping nastily,
then you know…
life’s almost gone.

Present passing, future balking,
ambition silent,
message cleaving,
just like that…
you are done.

Erin Moen
5/14/03
Copyright 2003 ©