Notes About The Poem
Serling vs Roddenberry vs Hitchcock Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Tom Woody
Hitchcock
I remember reading a short story by Hitchcock. Three friends walk and converse as they make their trek home from work. Huddled in mind,
independently fearless, the cold air or hot night baring their souls.
crows on line watching
remembering silhouettes -
chalk line to be drawn
Three, two, one - for one must eventually walk alone. Walking the line, confident, aware of every shadow, lurking, stillness jumps out.
Hesperus midnight
moon scantily clothed in shroud
clicking of high heels
Let go the chain, the arm-in-arm armor. Pallor of countenance as pinking blush of rush hour fades into dusk. You can almost see fingertips reaching out, moving away.
vertiginous spin
heightened intensity fights
thundering heartbeats
One, why her? All alone. Path is familiar and unknown. She spots someone near her residence. She runs like a stallion. Her horseshoes clip clopping on cobblestone. Key shaking, cranking, releasing. Safe.
Safe in a prison, of sorts. Safe, wrapped in her place of warmth.
the rocking chair creeks
only for a little while -
shower curtain shrieks
Each lady found a friendly front door and the backside; that closed out the cold or was it warm air? The third lady, warming her tea, hears the clearing of a throat behind her…
the stories complete
but my imagination
runs away with me
Now, I’ve told this tense tale, as I remember it. Three, two, one,
the ladies parted ways. Two will meet again, but the last one, ripped from the pages of time, lingers.
suspension of peace -
invalid looks through window
placed there by Hitchcock
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