Balloons

I asked for a sign.
A boy saw it so many times.
Thought everyone did it.
The bible was littered with it.
I always get mine.

Now images, mine.
Sublime answers on ceilings.
A weekend re-en-joying a 'ti-ny-dot'
that disappears into space.
Flew away; but here was fixed.

Balloons. And light gasses.
And shot from a Ferris-wheel-
shiny faces, looking up. Taz
grinning with teeth. A man
holding so many precious strings.

Too dark! Zealous burning-in.
Abandoned temporarily: Lost
into space, or maybe
to Father Christmas.
He would surely replace.

Our story develops
the construction of sentences.
Her first full phrase
a magnificent ballad
for mummy, when she returns for her.

Alone, I pass the darkness
to friends, finding

mine had been captured
flat on a ceiling, hardly bobbing,
not drifting into blue space,
but waiting.


Cor, 1998