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In this raw and honest poem Suzanne Edgar captures that moment when reality walks all over the assumed image of the imagined-self.

…………………………………………………………………

GONE MISSING

Suzanne Edgar

……………………………………………….

I was at a noisy partymirror

in a laughing, drinking crowd

telling anecdotes galore

mixed up with hissy gossip

and frequent risqué jokes.

When I did a mirror check,

I received a frightful shock.

Someone had taken my face!

I’d come there brushed and sleek

with lips of deepest pink,

my shining auburn hair

framed eyes like summer pools.

The effect was rather youthful,

I’d supposed when I arrived.

This was not the face

that met me in the glass.

Where had my image gone?

The cheeks I saw were red,

the bloodshot eyes were smudged

and my hair had lost its sheen.

I looked about in panic,

there was no one else in view,

could it have been borrowed

or taken by mistake?

That face I liked to wear

has never been returned.

…………………………………………………………………………

Suzanne Edgar’s book The Painted Lady is available @se-book3
the bookshop of the National Library of Aust and the
Paperchain Bookstore 34 Franklin St Manuka ACT.

Read extract here.

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The cure is not in the chemo, blade or pill.     pills

It is in the reckoning.

 

Why me? Why me? Why me?

 

 Fate can be a bastard

What did you expect?

Garlands of good fortune?

A ticker tape parade along Destiny Drive?

Dorothy and Toto skipping you down the Yellow Brick Road?

 

Or maybe you felt that God

–      as a one of interventionist favour-

would lasso that renegade cell gone cancer cowboy

or get out his godly remote and stop that lunatic car

or turn omnipotent bouncer and block your entry

in the dance of destruction, Pandora’s Choice!

 

It matters not.

 

 Pandora chose you.

That is the reckoning.

 

Later – if there is a later –

It is time to weigh, sift and till

Find the fertile lobe

Sow new thoughts of how you are to be

Grow new ways of thinking

This is me! This is me! This is me!

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