In the street they watched her falling,
a flutter of wings in soft shell pink,
sequins dancing in the sun-ripened light.
Wafting groundwards they watched her,
a falling of wings in the dancing light,
her mother’s cry a current of sound
bearing her down to the waiting street
in that slow-motion dance – its twists, its turns,
unripened arms stretched wide in flight.
They watched her gliding, soft shell smile
stretched wide with wonder, eyes shiny, bright,
like sequins dancing in the sun-ripened light,
borne down against the wide-eyed street
on the fluttering crest of her mother’s cry,
as the ground twisted up to her soundless wings.
In the street they watched her dancing,
freeze-framed against the falling light,
a flutter of wings in soft pink flight.
Jennifer’s poetry and short fiction has appeared in numerous publications on both sides of the Atlantic, including The Guardian, Mslexia, South and Short Fiction. She lives in Devon, England, and is a previous winner of both the Hart Crane Memorial Poetry Contest and the Commonwealth Short Story Competition. Find more examples of her work at https://jennifermoore.wordpress.com/poetry.