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By Maggie M Date: 2008 Jun 29 Comment on this Work [[2008.06.29.17.35.2466]] |
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My Box of Crayons I looked for my box of crayons. I knew they must be somewhere; Nothing disappears to nothing. I found them on a hard cold day, under the back window of an old car. I had to move a box of tissues, hardened with long-dried salty tears to find a brittle black pool, bristling with barbs of colours I thought I had forgotten. Once bright and whole and separate, - they invited me to dream with them. I can’t count the colours anymore, all the paper tubes long gone to grey. But I wonder, Can I grasp this brittle, fragile pool? Will barbs prick to bleed as dreams flood back in Crayola-colour clarity? Or will all have gone to black and brown like old bruises, waiting patiently to be reabsorbed or struck again… There is no tabula rasa in my heart for brand new pictures, and anyway, I’m trying to colour inside the lines now. |