Reimagined French Postcards
What so stained the clothes you wore?
Was it the red wine that left a note while it lent you its audacity?
The vodka sauce we could barely afford?
Did it rub off from the car you knelt against
And leaned on for support in a moment of weakness
While Mother Nature breathed a sigh of relief?
Or perhaps it was there from before.
Maybe it missed your mirror’s discriminating deliberating gaze.
The red one or the white one?
The short one or the long one?
What fluid fell while you were flaunting your flowing gown?
Long nights followed by longer mornings.
Bleeding into one another.
When the tides reached their peak
We fell from the sky.
And when you roused and arose from the den of desire
It lay limply beside you.
An artifact of the past we all share.
No cotton linen silk or wool can record the scent,
The tennuous yearnings of your desire,
No walls can remember the smoke you lured me with,
The light that failed to wake us,
The words uttered and felt more than heard.
No spot can remember you
Like the stain you left on me.
May 25th, 2013 at 5:45 pm
Eli,
This was a well-thought out project, taking its inspiration from the Victorian era cards, its challenge to classification and specificity from Foucault, and its evocative poeticism from Whitman and other readings. Like your acting ability, I had not known that you were interested in writing poetry, since your essays have been written in such a clear academic style, so bravo to your range of talents!