as if you weren't there.
but it's your dream, after all,
who let them in the screen dream door
or did they neglect to knock and just barged through
with their snide glances, eyebrows crooked-
unruly, in new galoshes:
so good at overlooking you
in your own household,
sporting your own shoes and recipes
and passing notes to each other
undercover skipping you in the rows,
the valentine kings of leapfrog
leavers of coal in the Christmas stockings
of the deposed.
oh child of the bitter playgrounds
find your place
beyond this stick figured human race.
clap the erasers together until there's thunder
in summer pools you'll not go under
on the last day on earth
when it's you who volunteered, isn't it?
in coloured chalks on a tear washed board
in your very own handwriting
exactly what's written there...
mary angela douglas 11 june 2015;12 march 2016