Her feet didn’t touch the ground
Hard when in the air
Dummy was her parents’ new best friend
Brought silence, to be shared
Bart Simpson kept her company
Twisties fell to floor
She smiled as she turned her head
Inquisition knocked on door
Movement, ever, oh so fast
Tablet entertaining
Attentive of the screen, her own
Made most of time remaining
Silently she cried aloud
As if she was on the screen
The tattooed arm of adulthood
Words needless, hardly seen
Thongs on table
Relaxed in time
Soon to land again
Centrifugal focus
Goes unnoticed
Who was she? Where?
And when?
Postscript: This poem was written whilst in a plane on a domestic flight from Sydney to Brisbane. The little girl across the way from me was, as you can glean from the text of the poem, busied by treats, her dummy…and Bart Simpson.
sensualism 