By Eric Meub
She closed no doors at home. Sometimes they’d shout
at her, slammed by the wind: a single clap
of violent conclusion, like a trap
to seal her in a room. Or keep her out.
She liked her Sundays free of plans, disdaining
dinner invitations to linger by
her window watching the day’s whiteness die
on the walls. Or not linger, choice remaining.
She shunned the ends of novels, kept her ledge
of volumes fringed with bookmarks. She endured
her mother’s Persian carpet but preferred
unraveling to any bordered edge.
She never married, never lost her days
attending graduations, high-school plays.
Copyright © 2013 by Eric Meub
Eric Meub, architect, lives and practices in Pasadena. He is the adopted brother of the artist, Susan C. Price. They respect, in their different ways, the line.
Not sure what happened yesterday Eric. I thought I had post this then. But, anyway I liked it very much. You seemed to have captured a novel within a few words.
ReplyDeleteEd, I had a similar thought to your "captured a novel within a few words." I think his portrait is the biography of a life, in a way that a line drawing, of course, could never be. Masterful!
DeleteThanks, Ed. That's part of the fun of short verse form: trying to see how much content it can accommodate. Sometimes the bag bursts a little. Thanks for reading!
ReplyDelete