read write prompt #107, lighting the way
by Andre Tan
Write a poem based upon your own response to a photograph.
What a window does
Light makes no sense looking
like yellow now. Maybe because
it’s crashing on the shore, turbulent
because it matters here.
Five-fingered. How primal, how
human I suppose, but believing is
akin to a hot frying pan. Just right
is rather brief.
Disrobed of neglect brilliant
waves confirm a pulse submerged,
someone’s slumber interrupted
with uncertainty. A rose withered
is, yes, still a rose.
Inside this shell they rested,
wrestled remembering by chalk
outlines. Painted dust onto brick.
Stood on limbs once coniferous.
How many destinations here
contained, fallow now?
Let lightning plow, none shy
of sun. Fertile as a river is.
As it is here in a single breath.
Hand me some chalk.
Here’s my life and bright.
Neil Reid © December 2009