I see the yellow song upon my paper
the colour of the sun or the
centre of a daisy
petals down
I didn’t mean to wake you, Jonas.
but when I heard the broken blind
scraping against the dry wall
I thought it was morning.
I wanted to rise early
before the sky was with sun
without coat or shoes
and go into the untouched streets
Yes, Jonas, yes, you say they don’t exist
but in the night I saw
the yellow song
and I am not convinced that
I was
dreaming.
~ Melodie Corrigall
Originally published in: West Coast Review
Similar Stories:
Ninety Years Young
I am classified
senior.
Here there are no elder statesmen,
only the rich become elders.
The po...
Universal Summer Blue
tires bumping and dust rising
we rattle past fields of unkind soil
along a dirt-forgotten road
...
The Children
All her children are dead children
but some still follow her
like thin shadows
clutching at her a...
Scattered to the Wind
Still as stone
she lies beside her husband
soon to be her ex.
Forty years earlier, at 28,
she ...
Orpheus and I
Trailing behind you
along the night-deserted highway
above, black sky, sharp stars,
below no soun...