high above ocean
on this piece of the hill
this peaceful hill
always had to
sit up straighter
speak when spoken
the little girls playing
across the road
laugh together
she had a language
of private gestures
quick faces made
in the yard opposite
swings and guinea-pigs
crowd
cross your legs
at the ankles
don’t laugh out loud
expansive sunlight fills
the wide circle
of the cul-de-sac
that’s dangerous
unladylike
don’t be silly
Amanda yells to her kids
her smile is wide
her stance open
grown awkward
I returned home
less and less often
at night I gaze
from my vantage
the street rests unafraid
For a dVerse exercise on conflation: expanding one poem with another which is unrelated. I chose to weave my two threads in and out of each other. I’m not sure it’s a true conflation; it could be said that there’s a relationship of contrast. And of course the title is slightly ironic; this is not a 'stream of consciousness' poem in the usual sense.
