Faceless Women

Waves crash on nearby rocks, I’m about ten,
sitting in a small room full of paintings,
patterned fabrics on sofas from a long time ago,
a room filled with untouchable pieces,
be careful where you step, rickety tables,
dad’s deep voice, mum crying in the bathroom.

Oil paint in a wooden frame, he always liked wood,
no wind, the sky blue, yellow sun in the corner.
Three women stand on a beach,
face the water, backs laced with thin bikinis.

There is no fear in the world of these three women
captured unknowing in his glance.
The world he pictured,
not the stifled world
we lived in.

Painted like a memory,
a beach I’ve seen in Greece,
a small cove sheltered from waves,
not the beach we lived near.
I might be mistaken, haven’t seen the painting
for more than five years now.

Thunder crashes, cold rain falls,
only the sound of hard drops
thudding, and his voice, like thunder,
the light gone from the world
as the world closes down.

The hand that made it
is not the man I knew. He had time to paint
three women,
a world we did not know.
No time for us; no time
now he is gone.

First Published Ishaan Literary Review Issue 6 2015

Advertisements

8 thoughts on “Faceless Women

  1. Pingback: Pushcart Prize Nomination | Ion Corcos

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s