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  Mar 2017 Emma Hill
Terry Collett
Life changing
the Blitz bomb
took my sight
and my legs.

Clive gone too
at Dunkirk.

I recall
our last kiss
as the train
left London.

I sit in
this darkness.

Hospital
smells around
and voice sounds.

Morning Grace
a voice says.

My blind eyes
turn around
to the sound.

Who is it?
I enquire.

Doctor Clay
I have come
to see you
and see how
your stumps are
the voice says.

They're painful
I tell him.

Nurse we need
Grace to be
lying down.

Between them
they lift me
on the bed.

Fingers lift
my nightdress
and unwrap
bandages.

Fresh air hits
the leg stumps.

His fingers
examine
what is left
of my legs.

They're healing
very well
he tells me.

Soon we will
have someone
sort you out
for new legs
he informs.

I thank him.

He goes off
and the nurse
(small fingered)
now attends
to some fresh
bandages.

As her fingers
touch my thighs
I recall
Clive touching
me there too
that last time
before he left
for the War.

I stare out
into dark
cold spaces
and a far
away shore.
A BLIND LEGLESS WOMAN IN LONDON IN 1940
  Mar 2017 Emma Hill
wordvango
needs desires possibilities
no one can defend
rationally
leave them I wish
somehow someday
just when
I look forward wondering
another life
possibly
the life I am a flower
a tree
a milled seed
food for all
powder
  Mar 2017 Emma Hill
wordvango
odd
three wishes granted
stolen from the masses
I guess
I wished for
ten million
years of peace
houses and food  for all
water flowing
I felt odd
as if I might wish
wrong
Emma Hill Mar 2017
Genderless with scraped knees and
A lipstick crush on one who bore the same name as me
Uncut brown hair untouched by bleach and
Stealing kisses from my best friend while my parents lied asleep
Lying in the grass with a picture book on faeries
Listening to the wind whistle through our dying trees
Jumping on the bed with my ***** and my bubby
Giggling hand over mouth when my mother called him "hubby"
Daisy chains and he loves me nots
Unbrushed teeth beginning to rot
***** shoes and ***** shoelaces
Visiting imagined places
Pink striped socks and a skirt to mismatch
Waiting for robins eggs to fall or to hatch

O, to be a child and to live within a dream
To lie awake at ten past eight, imagination like a stream
  Mar 2017 Emma Hill
wordvango
always churning the dichotomies
what life is light dark
then turning to view the sunset
in your eyes  
the view
changes into
heart bursts and sunrises
no matter what time of night it is
stars hold no place in my eyes
nor does a full moon
when glowing I catch
the slight glimpse of gold in
your eyes your soul shines
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