The young man waits, windows in his head.
In walks the woman wearing a yellow dress.
She smokes his mirrors and fills his veins;
she dances his floor and thrills him with danger.
She creates dark spaces within him.
Her essence marks him unique
He leaves sunshine following
her dress into the night.
When the last scrap
of her hem disappears into darkness,
all he sees are rope and shadows.
He's left to scream alone,
to claw his way back to daylight.
The old man sits in a darkened room
her face splatters his memory, pastels on mist
the memory of a yellow dress fills his mind
she dances through white columns
the day dazzles marble bright
buds burst heart green leaves
she's weaving through the glare
waving at him; he struggles to stand
to follow her once more
at last to reach the darkness.
by Gay Reiser Cannon
Published by Willow Tree Press 12-2011
In The Presence of Poets - Willow Tree Press 2011
⌐ Reference sake: Le jeune homme et la mort