Nine

After almost all the joy had taken flight
on the backs of birds and mice alike
the little girl climbed aboard a mother
safe swaying above a blood-cold
concrete street

And for a while the street served
as the path of adventure,
all along paved with the honour of intention

Like the many marches of men
in their sashes and socialism
searching and working for
a workable idea within the forward facing faces.

They were off to see a woman -
her play-friend’s mother -
performing in public
a Hollywood display.

Romance fired the gun
and only when the shot rang out
did open-mouthed Little catch the falling face
and know of a traitor’s blood in winter snow.

Her winter then saw a lifetime of snow.