What is her name?
When I last saw her
it vanished beneath the ground
where we stood.
Filing past crates
of fruit and potato,
the Thursday crowd follows
sidewalk lines,
moves content towards
no center.
A boy follows her.
Her face is pale and smiling,
floats before the apple
barrels.
Linda -- mid-sentence, mid-laugh.
Even the last name
comes, and draws for me
the portrait of
a word.
1 comment:
bwhahahah. i love the tag, btw. completely false, but funny!
as always, you have such pretty images. interesting movements too: how the name sinks into the ground and the crowd mills in a line (but not towards the center, so they may be walking the circumference of a circle); her face bobs above the apples. the motions are all very sedate and smooth: lines, paths, natural things.
in the last stanza i wanted a bit of a shake-up from the structure- as the quietness and the complacency is broken by sudden recognition. "Linda--/ mid sentence..." maybe.
the word "portrait" sort of subconsciously ties together all these buried images of lines. i enjoyed making that parallel (no pun intended). more later. have to see chally
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