The Body in the Other Room
by Bill Yarrow
I couldn't parse the grammar of her body
nor decode the secret softness of her neck.
I didn't learn the tango of her shining
nor even once track the trespass of her tongue.
No one could rob her being of its bullion
or untie the satin lashes of her charm.
I lay with her on a tarnished beach at noon.
Above us, blind seagulls interrogated
aqueous clouds. I whispered a sinuous ...
I could go on but I'm tired, tired of
describing what doesn't exist, what never
existed, except in words, words, whorish words
of a certain alignment, a certain
innocuous provocative vicinity.
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Author's Note
This poem was published in Ragazine.
This poem appears in "Against Prompts."
https://www.amazon.com/Against-Prompts-Bill-Yarrow/dp/1943170282
Other stories by Bill Yarrow
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"...words, whorish words
of a certain alignment..." What it's all about.
This is good. Humorous but seriously fun.
Beautiful poem.
"the grammar of her body ..."
Also portrays a contest (however sporting) between memory and imagination, so at least a dual accomplishment.
Good work.
Whoa. Being poetic is a whole 'nother
precipice.
Thanks, Matt, Verkaro, Erika, Edward, and Larrry!
Well done.
Love the deconstruction. Very effective.
Thanks, Gary and Dianne!
Beautiful and musical.
No one could rob her being of its bullion
or untie the satin lashes of her charm.
Gorgeous. *
Thanks, Darryl! Thanks, Tim!
"I could go on but I'm tired, tired of
describing what doesn't exist, what never
existed, except in words, words, whorish words"
Marvelous piece, Bill.
Thank you, Sam!
Love it, particularly the "tango of her shining." *
*, Bill. Remarkable poetry. Superb poem.
Thank you, Beate! Thank you, David!