They do not identify me do they ?

I was the missing child that they forgot

to advertise as missing

They do not remember me do they ?

My face reminded of madonna

who simply disappeared underground

No more  found in rock shows

not even in the audience

They were the muffled voices of a crowd

around an accident victim

surprised that she lived

They had the obituary typed.

I was probably the statue expecting

pigeons to return after they ate their feed

As if they would lend me their wings

And  make peace with the angry years

As the moon looms large closer to earth

than ever before

Finally you hear me

The one who has the right to listen



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