Space of air and light the views turn one way it’s today turn the other it’s last century before the subway the gas lamps and coal smoke the advertisements on the buildings long faded there is memory somewhere under this grey coating over perhaps an old floor perhaps a new floor there was a sofa there and a vase before a dried rose kept in a family book the vase kept half full of water marking a love lost to consumption a time of hoping the dead are forever with us the scars of memory are eternal scratched in layers from the deep to this height to this blurred view of the never-sleeping city reflected by the grey flooring follow the light down and see living memory in the streaks and cuts and marks of feet in shoes named for the reason we’re here Serenade Aspiration Vienna Synthesis or no shoes feet taped futilely against the burns the cracking the pain of trying of hearing a single voice calling, “and AGAIN!” One set of hands accompanying sweating and panting caller on the galley ship knowing everyone is always auditioning two hundred rowing across the floor limbs akimbo following trying to follow falling behind then one hundred getting less rest more moving then fifty becoming a gasping twenty then faster down to the five needed for tomorrow’s rehearsal everyone finally diving wheeling into a layer on the grey flooring now reflecting all light off sweat the chosen wheezing like a keening dirge now going home to the flat brushing against the silver framed picture of children in costume before cardboard trees smiling with the teacher the smiles so large they close the eyes add water to the vase lay on the sofa rest somewhere in the forever city
Comments
No posts