Girls Standing Talking Poem by Leslie Philibert

Picking twigs out of hair; the flutter
of coats and a round of small flights,
the strands of scarves and birds

on arms. Fingernails on tweed and
the promise of soap and beads,
music from ankles and white wrists.

All too busy to listen; words as sweets
that fall between polished shoes.
A ring of small bones, godesses

round-mouthed at the sight of mobiles,
a nest of starlings ready to flee...

oh you didn`t, you really didn`t.