A China Robin – Philippa McMenamin

By August 15, 2013 2013 runner up

A China Robin
You’re dust spluttered into the night sky shaken free of stars
One of those nights where the sky feels sort of closer than usual
As if you could swallow it, or bathe in it, or just swim within its depths
You’re the girl I see in the mirror
The one with the face cracked all the way down as if carved of china doll fragments
You’re way up there with the greats
You’re better than them all
You’ve hooked your ribs within those of
The sullen boy whose ruby eyes bled into his soul
Somehow I see you reflected in the stormy pavement
And the cinderblock sky
In the words that I can’t say
And my shouts which fall to whispers
You’re like a tree which falls in an emptied forest
You’re like a tear that soaks into your pillow at night
You’re the kind of person whose petals feel exactly like thorns
You’ve plucked away at your angel wings
You hanged yourself with your halo
On the shoulder where angels often graze, I see only another devil
You’re someone I choose to think about
Because the pain of you is like huffing paint
Because even though you’re a relic
And you’ve nested deep within my skull
Speaking only in migraines
You’ve curved mountains in my shoulders
Knitted a knot within my spine
I’m huffing air
And breathing paint
I’m certain that you’re the sunlight which illuminates those sad sparkly granules of dust
I hope that wherever you are, you are somewhere
I hope that heaven isn’t dirt in the ground
I hope heaven heals wounds you can’t lick clean yourself
And I hope that you shake hands with Athena
Strong and wise like you
I’m sure that you painted the last pink sky I saw
Because I know I saw that dress you used to wear in it
You’re up there with the greats
But none as great as you
Philippa McMenamin
Year 12
Villa Maria College, Christchurch

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