emerges from the hotel elevator
without her groom
(he waiting alone by the bar).
She turns her toes toward him,
makes a move.
She is stopped by the hand of a man
Placed on the small of her back,
pulling her in to his roiling lips.
She cannot focus on the face at this
angle. He is one of the tour, she knows that.
"You are beautiful," he steams,
surprised by his own voice.
Her eyes find the floor,
a word surfaces in her mind.
The hand is removed.
He shifts away,
returns to his inebriated wife.
Outside, night.
North African prostitutes
haunt the frigid fields.
By morning,
only stiletto holes
filled with tongues of frost.
Bareness is the word.
bareness.
-January, 1999
6 comments:
Beautiful, simply beautiful. This really tells a moment and yet a story at once. You've captured a very simple and complex moment, and of course the imagery is lovely, as always. "tongues of frost" is my favorite.
I love the tension built up here. The structure is so skilfully done. And your poetic voice is original.
My favorite lines:
"By morning,
only stiletto holes
filled with tongues of frost"
wow. just. wow. quite a short intense ride. bravo!
Great images conjured up inside my mind's eye, reading words you have written.
'Outside, night.
North African prostitutes
haunt the frigid fields.
By morning,
only stiletto holes
filled with tongues of frost'
Haunting in itself and I am thinking, very good; you.
Thanks, all.
This one needs a lot of work. Any suggestions would be very welcome!
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