Prelude by Mary McCarthy

Pacific by Alex Colville, 1967.

Prelude

A room at the beach.
A young man, shirtless,
stands on the threshold, looking out.
Everything is flat,
unmodulated,
even the ocean, lifeless,
one limp wave coming in.
His body
posed in the doorway,
is smooth as paper,
no rough edges left
to catch the world
as it slides away.
There is nothing in the empty room.
Behind him, sharp angles
and flat surfaces.
Only one weighted object,
a gun on the table,
three dimensional,
a solid complicated shape
intricately realized
ready for use.

Mary McCarthy

This poem was written as part of the 20 Poem Challenge.

Mary McCarthy has always been a writer, but spent most of her working life as a Registered Nurse. She has had many publications in journals, including Earth's Daughters, Caketrain, and The Evening Street Review, among others. She has only recently discovered the vibrant poetry communities on the internet, where there is so much to explore and enjoy.