sometimes



she dreams
of goldfish flashing
orange under white,
wild tomcats from
tall pined woods
fighting for Sunday
noon scraps.

she forgets gnarled
hands, back pressed
against coiled springs
and the stench of an 
old man's breath,
as he whispers,
'let's play'.


Pris Campbell
©2004


Photograph: from archives

Music: Goodbye by Angelina Emanuela

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