07 June 2010

The Mad Gesture

because there is no other choice
he makes the mad gesture

marshalling his armies for another
assault

while she sits, with a dumb mouth
and closed eyes, as another film

reels off in her mind. now a flash
of taxi-yellow, now a blinking eye

of red

atop the stone formation two
books may make a desk, a

flier from the drycleaners (one coupon
torn off) the receptive page

for inkblot chicken-scratch, lifted
from the prescription pad (how
many years did she decipher the
doctor's hand

without becoming any the wiser?)

2 comments:

Monica said...

I came across this by chance and happened to love it. The ending gave me that lovely "ah-ha" feeling. Nice work.

McCarra—Poetry said...

Thank you, Monica, for your comments....I appreciate them....

MaryAnn