Enters a room no body can warm.
Bleached sky, blank walls, a face
where morning spreads a story
of distance, thin as a chemise, light
as light is strong. The space swells
with a solitude that won't let her open.
Free of distraction, she absorbs shadows.
Early hours offer only pastels, mute
shades that refuse brightness,
a palette muffled by unspoken limits.
Geometries of window and wall
make the bed another interior block
where she is static, absent expression
of what the day wants. Between
thought and motion, she feels less
important than the rays that etch
her world, its intricate vacancy,
the frieze of her own ineffable mask.
Steve Abbott is a former alternative press editor/writer, criminal defendant, delivery truck driver, courtroom bailiff, private investigator, information director for a social service agency, and college professor. He is founder and remains a co-host of The Poetry Forum, a weekly reading series now in its 34th year in Columbus, Ohio. He has edited two anthologies and published five chapbooks and a live CD. His full-length collection A Green Line Between Green Fields (Kattywompus Press) was released in 2018. He has never danced the macarena.
The Ekphrastic Review
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