Pelle Lowe

The next day you disappear. 

We still have our hands in a shoe-box full of bottle-caps. 
Two corks. Pins for a cricket cage. Broken crayons. 

Mary had a little lamb. 
No. You pick. 

We dress up in see-through curtains. Weíre 
Brides. White as snow. As Snow White. 

Wake me. 
Kiss my eyes. 

They said you went to the metal hospital. Nobody 
Can see in there. There arenít any windows. 

The metals blink in the dark. In their narrow beds 
They dream of fingers without thumbs. Someone 
Is always saying No. 


Violent puff-ball sky. The red door is melting. 
Everything in there turns bright yellow. Fingers 
Dim in the failing light. The engine is loud. 

Olly Olly All-Come-Free 

Put my Sunday dress on with nothing underneath, 
Tie a blindfold over my eyes. Feel my way down 
To the road between your house and mine. I do this 

For you. Because I know where you are and why 
I mustnít see you. Because I know the way to get there 

I pull my dress up over my head like a calico flower 
Torn out of the earth. Two pale roots and a raw red bud. 

And when I hear another car coming up and slowing down 
I pee and spit and chant your name. Little lamb little lamb. 

Until I bring you home.