“What do you want?!!!
Go play with your brother!!!”
My mother was a fashion model.
I was born in Houston, 1961.
Once, I painted Easter eggs with my mother.
She used to put me to bed with a poem.
(Today there is a book of poetry hidden in the desk drawer of my office.)
The bombing of Dresden turned a city
Into a nightmare of molten lava.
My father was born in Germany.
His dreams return to me in fractured pieces.
I would be lying if I told you this was making me happy.
When it is quiet I don’t want to think about anything.
I cannot tell these secrets;
They are deep blue, mysterious
Like poems trapped in the quivering depths of sapphires.
I would rather be in a Paris apartment
Overlooking the Boulevard St.-Germain
Misting white orchids
Sipping a flute of Veuve Clicquot.
The blind see the shadows of flowers in their dreams.
For them, it is like tasting coffee and chocolate.
It is like hearing the whispering of stars in other galaxies.
Gabrielle Langley lives and works in Houston, Texas. She is recipient of the Vivian Nellis Memorial Prize for Creative Writing. Her poetry has appeared in The G.W. Review, The Hatchet and the Round Top poetry anthology. Langley is a graduate from the High School for the Performing and Visual Arts. She holds an undergraduate degree from The George Washington University (Washington, D.C.) and a master’s degree from the University of Houston. She is also an active member of Thumbs Up Poets in Houston, TX.