The Gray Shape Behind the Principals

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.

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4 comments

  1. Good use of the cascade form. Poem suits the music. It feels very Hitchcock.The woman reminds me a little of Mrs Danvers in ‘Rebecca’
    Like the atmosphere you’ve created here.

    • Mrs D. I like that.
      I was literally all over the place writing this: several notebooks and two Internet devices. Lost a couple of half completed versions and had to go back to my first notes, which I’d mislaid by the time I got to this one. Don’t remember where along the way the camera came in. Probably rewrite will tone that element down. But that’s for rewrite to decide.

    • Thanks Madeleine.
      It’s pretty simple. The form for people who don’t do forms. Each line of the first stanza becomes the final line of a succeeding stanza, so the repetition sort of rolls down hill.


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