The Moya View

A Single Line- She Builds It Up- You Wreck It Down

Image credit: Polly Chandler

Along an icy pond the witch 
awaits you with your old
toy sailboat in her hand.

You passed her once in the white
wall of the city, laying your head
where her heart use to be—

her white dress waving in the
footlights, showing the parts of you,
you so so gladly threw away.

In the melting streams of spring the
pond turns into a mirror revealing the
stilt birdhouse you built for her.

The s streams takes you back to her, the
ebb tide pulls you forward to her dark—
the same thing you wanted to know.

What she has done, you can’t give it a name—
the day she walked away— leaving you
amidst all the high reflecting windows—

her not caring what you were building
in there, for her, behind the casement
she could never fully see through—

the madness taken from the nightstand—
the laptop in the middle of the crisp, white
linen sheet of the four poster bed.

She just dreamed you up and left you there.
When you dashed for her there was nothing
but a crushed rose left on the stairwell—

And amidst the sinking remnants of that old
toy boat, she vanishes— thinking of that line—
that built you up— broke you down.





3 responses to “A Single Line- She Builds It Up- You Wreck It Down”

  1. caroline46 Avatar

    Absolutely your Best. I love these poems when you write from this place

  2. Nicole Smith Avatar




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