We
sit in a long white room
at
either end of a long white table
tableclothed
in white, white dishes
and
white utensils, servants dressed
in
white. The table is too long
for
conversation, so we sit
in
the long white room, listening
to
white noise playing softly.
Only
the painting of a red square
in
its white frame on the white wall
breaks
the whiteness. We look
at
the centerpiece, a white vase
of
white chrysanthemums. We watch
the
room dissolve, fade to white.
6 comments:
I love this!!!
Beautiful, Glynn! The room must be waiting for the Lord's Banquet. See you there. :)
Powerful and deep.
Glynn - what a powerful poem. When I read, I get the sense of both purity and paucity. I wonder what emotion you hoped to evoke in the writing?
Charity, I wrote it under the influence of Robin Robertson -- reading his "The Wrecking Light." I can't tell why, exactly, only that the image of a white room and a white table caught hold of my head.
the leaves
green leaves
green growing
center piece
center peace
growing
garden green
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