You were the aunts’ whispers,
the rebel we shouldn’t meet.
Grown up, my brother said,
'I met that cousin. She’s brilliant!
You must meet, you’d love her.'
So I did, and you were, and I did.
Actor, dancer, thinker.
Spiked hair, bangles, throaty laugh.
We adored each other through decades
of marriages, babies, moves interstate.
Then what happened? A sudden
freeze. I still don’t know what I did.
[Poem #8]
This began as a game some bloggers played in 2008, to write about people who'd made an impact, in the same number of words as one's age, every day for a year. I did them less often and went on longer, adding one word each birthday. I stopped in 2016 and incorporated them into my main poetry blog. In 2019 I resumed the project and gave it its own blog again, with a new name, where it may unfold at its own (slow, intermittent) pace. I've labelled these verse portraits, but they're more like quick sketches: mere glimpses, impressions....
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