Two Wraiths In a Gust In Between Frames With a Third
Two wraiths in a gust in-between frames with a Third
...was it when i bumped into you last
a little put out by the awkwardness
something not willed not even by chance
who knows an air of Oh please spare me the excuse
eyes darting from cheek to contorting lips
the turning breeze curling into your bitten bud of an ear
expiring burnt breath
just the intimate release of breathless control
shifting feet somewhere in some other film frame
a door closing creaking in the soft amber sheen
of the flickering street lamp
was it in another slot
of time held in some half-remembered patched-up reel
footsteps slap quick-shuffled the soundtrack dragging the heels
The Third Man
down wet cobbled stones claroscuro classic
withholding comment
no time to grasp even the outstretched hand
a finger or two trailing no the index thumb and Mount of Venus
ever so lightly alerting the eyes yet for a fractured second
averting eye-contact slicing presences
or was it just that i wished to overlook the rebuff
thwart the unkindest cut into my roiling belly juices
the day you took careful aim
for some slight some mite of a pain complaint
a moment so gossamer thin so ephemeral no trace lingers
in the wind-swept thrusts of the pulse in the brain
does one hesitate in the accusing hour
an old sagging man cap in hand wordless and wan
hardly daring to lift lame will and sorry self
for once the back is turned no thoughts
of humped puffing breath bathing the cheeks
the lips the bacteria baked unbrushed stench
and the less than hoped-for wish trailing aghast
when next we stumble and slip
from one another's grasp...
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2017
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