Cleopatra’s Hair Clip
Hasn’t it been forever? I could have sworn I saw
the end of the world and its new beginning.
I saw us perish in the heat death of the cosmos –
torn apart in the hail and the fire. I remember floating
(just a spec) between the remains of Jupiter and Mars.
I think I saw you behind Saturn’s shattered rings. Until
BANG we were born again. I was a cloud
and you were a tree; when I rained, you cried.
And my water mixed with mud, and your leaves
were eaten by what emerged and stood and walked.
Civilisations rose and fell. I was Cleopatra’s hair clip
and you were Caesar’s robes. I was Lennon’s beard
and you were his bullet. I was the tower
and you were the plane. Perhaps I was the tsunami
and you were the beach or the sun overhead
as the Earth soaked below.
We were both breathing again when we met as children.
We grew and we loved one another and time passed
as it must and I moved away and I moved back again.
It’s been a few months since we last saw each other,
but my God eternity was shorter.
Coloured girls are like peaches:
fuzzy, juicy and not quite one colour all over.
Most importantly, we are stone in the middle
and more than willing to break your jaw.
There is something in my heart that will not rest:
as a fire burns the forest, as a mountain pursues the sky.
I wish you the happiest of endings and a life
filled with laughable disaster and recovery, but there is
something in me that will not sleep. I suppose
you’ll dance to life’s sunsets and kiss all those who love you.
Yet there is a part of me (however small) that shall not be
silenced. It must be a great privilege to be born so whole –
all your toes and hearts in alignment (but there is
something in my bosom that will not conform).
Sometimes the earth is grey and the city is blue and
the sun is a purple that does not rest and
I am a shade of tomorrow too sweet to be real
and I shall forever long to both be you and watch you
serenade my weeping sores to bed. However, the sun
cannot wait for the moon and you cannot
wait for me and some day soon I shall wake
to a note explaining your absence and my whole heart
will be in your keep.
Maria Harper is a poet and writer living in Dundee. You can find her fridge at wantonsea.tumblr.com.