A Scattered Bouquet
Woman must forget her own personality when she is in love… A woman is non-existent without a master. Without a master she is a scattered bouquet Cecile Sauvage
It seems I have thrown myself away.
The stem of my body languishes
without apparent purpose.
The letters of my name I discard
as worthless, drop them
one by one in separate rooms
then un-partner my rootless limbs.
Fingers, with nothing to latch onto,
find a corner to slump in as dead leaves.
Thoughts, untied,
sprinkle out of the window.
Words leave, my is mouth an empty vase.
My irises turn from each other,
each eyelash a petal wasted.
Yet my vision remains sharp.
Claire Walker’s poetry has appeared in magazines and websites including The Interpreter’s House, Ink Sweat and Tears, And Other Poems and Clear Poetry. Her debut pamphlet, The Girl Who Grew Into a Crocodile, is published by V. Press. Her website is http://clairewalkerpoetry.com