I have basked in another beauty,
a sharp jasmine needle
that has pricked the corner
of the so-called snazzy ones.
A bright torch
in a dark blue drowned room,
crumbs on a blood napkin
and the one-tone words
drop out our ears
like heptagonal coins out of pockets
or tears,
tears onto pages
in a teenager’s diary.
And then we advance
into October air
where leaves tick and tack
as typewriter keys do
across soggy ground.
Ride, walk
and now a story begins.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 5:26 PM UTC
I have basked in another beauty,
a sharp jasmine needle
that has pricked the corner
of the so-called snazzy ones.
A bright torch
in a dark blue drowned room,
crumbs on a blood napkin
and the one-tone words
drop out our ears
like heptagonal coins out of pockets
or tears,
tears onto pages
in a teenager’s diary.
And then we advance
into October air
where leaves tick and tack
as typewriter keys do
across soggy ground.
Ride, walk
and now a story begins.
Written: October 2012.
Explanation: Continuing the short series about pictures of girls that either I know but not very well, or girls that I have never met (see 'Holly', 'Red Die', 'Chilly Fingers' and 'Increase of Incandescence'), this piece is about somebody I see once a week. The title was suggested by a friend. Also available on my WordPress blog.
Request permission to use this poem