After the Day of the Dead

Trampled roses litter the streets, confetti
of the funeral of last nights festivities.
The dawn trickles soupy through the fog and glimmers
Against shattered glass.

I wake in a daze, on my back, on the tarmac
pavement washed with colour and litter, wet leaves.
I see a girl standing
sideways till the vertical horizon tips as I raise my head:

I recognise the girl, face paint almost sweated all away,
white dress crumpled and stained,
jewels scattered,
raven hair caught in a briar tangle.

We chased each other all the night and never caught up.
Now she pulls my hand, raises me up to stand
a head shorter than her and her curls.
Morning sweeps the mystery away.

(By Rachel Norris)

Prompts: Day of the Dead gallery, pursuit

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