NO LINK REQUIRED.
Posted: December 31st, 2010, 5:13 am
Avis lights the candle in the candle
Stick holder she’d bought in the junk shop from
The man with thick lens glasses and short
Grey hair. She holds the match over the wick,
Watches the flames take hold and then shakes the
Match until it goes out, leaving a short
Puff of smouldering smoke. She drops the match
Into the silver ashtray. Father stubbed
His cigarette butts in there, she muses,
Sensing the smoke smell caught by her nose, his
Thick yellowing fingers pushing down hard
Until the butt was dead. Apart from the
Light from the candle the room is quite dark,
The photo of her parents frozen in
Time in sepia print. Her mother is
Trying to smile, but not succeeding, her
Father looking into the camera
Lens with his stern stare, his clipped moustache short
Tidy and neat, just above his top lip,
His dark eyes piercing through the passage of
Time. Next to the photograph, her mother’s
Gold ring, removed from her dead finger as
Requested. She picks up the ring and puts
It on her finger, feeling the link with
Her mother renewed. Father’s ring she sold
To the man in the junk shop for the price
Of the gold. No link required or wanted
Or sought from the ring or the man alive
Or dead. The light from the candle flickers
And flares causing shadows to dance on the
Ceiling and walls. Was that his hard treading
Footsteps in her head or climbing the stairs?
Stick holder she’d bought in the junk shop from
The man with thick lens glasses and short
Grey hair. She holds the match over the wick,
Watches the flames take hold and then shakes the
Match until it goes out, leaving a short
Puff of smouldering smoke. She drops the match
Into the silver ashtray. Father stubbed
His cigarette butts in there, she muses,
Sensing the smoke smell caught by her nose, his
Thick yellowing fingers pushing down hard
Until the butt was dead. Apart from the
Light from the candle the room is quite dark,
The photo of her parents frozen in
Time in sepia print. Her mother is
Trying to smile, but not succeeding, her
Father looking into the camera
Lens with his stern stare, his clipped moustache short
Tidy and neat, just above his top lip,
His dark eyes piercing through the passage of
Time. Next to the photograph, her mother’s
Gold ring, removed from her dead finger as
Requested. She picks up the ring and puts
It on her finger, feeling the link with
Her mother renewed. Father’s ring she sold
To the man in the junk shop for the price
Of the gold. No link required or wanted
Or sought from the ring or the man alive
Or dead. The light from the candle flickers
And flares causing shadows to dance on the
Ceiling and walls. Was that his hard treading
Footsteps in her head or climbing the stairs?