written for a prompt at
entombment: the woman in the background
the room is behind her. we are behind her.
we see her as a blur at the window;
we almost see the gray clouds through her.
she is somewhere else. her eyes are closed.
In her imagination, she is impassioned.
The barely-breathing audience listens,
and leans forward, wanting what she wants.
The room is behind her. We are behind her.
the camera can only read a layer or so of her mind;
its simple focus gives a cutout silhouette,
and not her motivation. in the lens flare
we see her as a blur against the window.
The middle child, the mediator,
she has always eased the way for others,
with clarity. Her own desires, she thins away.
We almost see the gray clouds through her.
she is an abstraction to the viewer.
she might be listening to breakers curling over broken rock
or planning fratricide.
She is somewhere else. Her eyes are closed.
From Rallentanda, who must know that my naturally sunny nature needs a little seriousness now and then:
The prompt this week is based on the beautifully haunting music (listen) of Thomas Newman from the film “Revolutionary Road ” and also the word” entombment” which will be the title of the poem. A cascade quatrain would suit this topic.