counting stars and recounting stories

by 02:43 0 comments
She laughs in the middle of the night, 
and whispers to the moon, 
she says she was robbed, 
a lot of her heart, 
in a lot of places, 
by a lot of people. 
she says a lot of her jewellery was stolen, 
when the night was a little darker than usual, 
and the moon refused to grace the skies, 
she couldn’t count any constellations, 
she heard a cat, 
meow again and again, 
she thought it was a bad omen. 
she wraps her shawl around her neck a little tighter, 
says the story still gives her shivers, 
intoxicated by her own words, 
she says she’d tasted a little gin, 
and a lot vodka, 
and by a little, 
she means seven pegs down.
she says she remembers everything, 
how the night got quieter, 
how she clutched her pendant a little tighter, 
but it wasn’t there. 
she says she heard someone, 
something fall off a bag, 
like the sound of a thief’s footsteps, 
silent yet traceable, 
she says she heard someone sneeze, 
before she laughs and whispers, it was probably herself. 
She saw a rope, 
she doesn’t know what they used it for, 
she shivers a little and says it was either too dark, 
or they’d taken her ring too. 
She giggles and says it was probably the former.
She tumbles a little, 
her heel’s broken, 
she says she had counted the money in her wallet, 
twelve hundred, 
fifteen hundred, 
maybe eighteen hundred, 
she says as an afterthought, 
she settles for nine hundred. 

She looks around to see if anyone is listening, 
and says there were notes in her bag, 
but they were fake, 
so she cleaned her make-up with them, 
she giggles a little more, 
“I feel rich”, she says, 
until I’m not. 
She reaches to her ears, 
as if to check her earrings, 
they aren’t there, 
she realises she never wears earrings, 
she stumbles now, 
giggles and says maybe she robbed herself, 
she smiles a little more than usual, 
and there’s something different about this smile, 
she looks up at the moon, 
and says her heart was stolen, 
in different places, 
by different people, 
she counts the stars, 
and recounts her stories, 
and tells us about the time she was robbed. 

_counting stars and recounting stories 

Prompt: “the story the town drunk can’t stop telling”

National poetry Writing Month, Day 23.


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