No devil, risen from the pavements,
wants to be proven, wants to be seen.
They are like steam in winter,
(she explains, unfolding her tripod, readying her hood and lenses)
unmistakable but also ephemeral.
They are hot, diffuse--
instinct instructs that they are unclean,
though there is no report, little data.
Once, she lay in a bearded man's arms,
the linen was laundered, his touch was deft.
There were no demons then, or few.
Stars lazed across the skylight at night.
These years since, she has been fodder for demons--
they weary her and she wearies others,
exclaiming about their machinations.
If only they could see, and believe!
And so she maneuvers her heavy gear down seven floors to the street,
to capture her tormentors on a glass plate.
As she leaves, a bearded man sighs and speaks her name in soft despair.
She knows, he has become a demon, too,
but will not sit for portrait and so she cannot believe in him,
or his voice saying so sadly that she has disappeared.
__________
for this.
I was hoping that you would respond to this photo.. and this was well worth the baited breath. Such a dark and melancholy tale you have woven, of how subtle the fractures of the mind can be, or one's grasp on any kind of reality, am ephemeral thing in itself, like the phantoms. I feel for the bearded man, and his despair.
ReplyDeleteThose ghosts rising as vapor from the street... I love the sense of healing it (might) brings to her... trapping them on plates...
ReplyDeleteI am crazy about that title.
ReplyDeleteThe first three lines, and these:
"the linen was laundered, his touch was deft"
"they weary her and she wearies others,
exclaiming about their machinations"
"And so she maneuvers her heavy gear down seven floors"
"[he] will not sit for portrait and so she cannot believe in him"
... are my favorites.
Love this piece. :)
I can sense the melancholia in her ruminations. It's hard to solve that which you cannot see.
ReplyDeleteI wonder what it would be like to be able to capture in a photograph what haunts the mind. I feel the agony of this woman who just wants others to see her demons.
ReplyDeleteWow, this is amazing - the story, and the understanding of the mind's machinations and the delusional suffering. I see this up close in a loved one. A fantastic write.
ReplyDeleteThe bearded man with the deft touch, the demons...i feel for the bearded man and also for the demons.
ReplyDeleteFabulous poem
ReplyDelete