(Brian Hoover's painting: The Girl with Fantastic Hat)
*
*
The woman in the window flutters and burns like a dripping heart.
He appraises from below; his eyes tug at her hair.
“Hello!” He calls, “Here I am!”
She smiles and waves. It is her job to sit here, glowing in the shadows.
“Come down so I can talk to you!”
She pauses and looks down. The pages slip from her fingers and fall to his feet.
(Trees shiver and birds freeze in flight while the sun sits poised like a vase on the horizon.)
“I think I love you!” He yells.
She leans out into the sun and her smile is a burst of light that sprays the curtains and spills down the wall.
She tumbles down (through the slicing branches, cold feathery knives) and lands in a pool of shards at his feet.
He picks up the stained pages and sighs. She had a lovely face.
*
*
I’ve been having weird dreams lately. How about you? Any good ones you’d like to share?
This one was a sad doozy of how painful it can be to sit alone and write it all down. (At least that’s what I felt in your words!)
Speaking of sharing dreams: Lisa at the Satsumabug blog (I just realized that she changed the name!) asked about them on her Friday Open Mic -
http://satsumaart.wordpress.com/2011/07/15/open-mic-friday-you-talk-dreams/
You can read about Goldie Hawn’s visit to my house!
Thanks for the tip. Dreams are wonderful, aren’t they? Just read yours and posted my own. (Can’t believe he was tapping his watch! How funny!)
so he’s fallen in love with a projection, mirror image ???
I don’t have any answers for you on this one. Sounds good to me!
Very evocative!
Thank you, Munira!
This is absolutely beautiful. I love the very modern feel there is to the lines, almost sounding like prose rather than verse, but then while reading the words have such a flow to them that it’s impossible to read it as anything but poetry.
I’m not sure if it’s a poem or a story or what. Guess it could go either way although I’m surprised, since I don’t usually write poetry but just thought the word fit in the title.
This reminds me of the women in Morocco who sit and watch the world go by behind moushrabias, carved wooden shutters that “shelter the women from men’s eyes.”
Yes! It reminds me of so many things (Romeo and Juliet, the Lady of Shallot, etc.). Must be archetypal since it came from dream.
Lovely poem. I love the last line. Brings you up to an arresting halt. Nice one !!
Thanks! A total rip-off from Tennyson, but there is no such thing as an original thought, right?
Haha, borrow and be damned
I thought that was lovely. Forget poems though, this is where short fiction is going, snapshots, colorful little lovely scenes like dreams and such or whatever snapshot of life
Thank you and what do you mean forget poems? Reading poetry is how I learned how to see!