Passé / Futur by An Untrained Eye
(Find a larger version here. It’s worth looking at it, go ahead. Go.)
Looking for Signs
One hand is future, the other past.
The shut door, distorted by bright
red shadows in stucco, doesn’t
show me what I need to know. Lead
paint lets splinters evade the tell.
Darkness seeps when skies clear,
weeps lightening as fog smears
my eyes. Your past is layers, shifted.
Open palms, closed door, cracked vent.
Chasms look refined from fifty miles
above in the mesosphere. Meteors
burn and shroud star signs from fists.
My past is this callus, a wedding ring
rests against flesh plates that crack,
rise slowly or jut then thrust
calamitously. A wave, a high sign,
a gesture: Come. Stay. Go.
* * *
For Read Write Poem, with thanks to An Untrained Eye for use of the photograph.
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Wonderful. Great music as in the phrase “cracked vent” and your use of the word “mesosphere” is inspired.
Thanks, Nathan!
i like the mixed message in the last line:
a gesture: Come. Stay. Go.
(are you reading my palm at this exact moment?)
ther is so much to like here….”lead pain lets splinters evade the tell”…..for me is special
“lead paint”
I think I like lead pain, Wayne. Thanks!
Hey, Carolee. I was reading our palms, yes. ;-)
What a wonderful poem. I love every image here!
Marriage can carry so much baggage but, there is always a cracked vent and the opportunity: come, stay, go. Loved it!
By-the-by, I am floundering in a funnel cake batter morass and you will not be there to spoon me out, oh woe is me, woe RWP!
“The hand that spoons the batter drizzles the cake.”
Quote by – Bozo
Thanks, Erin!
Hey Donald: Carolee, Jill & Jessica are continuing on. And I’ll be doing news and participating. Just no cake decorating. ;-)