Saturday, June 29, 2013

The Other Night, a poem by Harrison Aye

She was caught up like she always was.

She would pause things,

they were still-frames in her mind.

From the audience she’ll follow you

with her incandescent eyes.

The first two hands to strike applaud you.

They set off a chain reaction,

Christ, that crowd adores you.

A bold technician turns the spotlight.

Can you overthrow the banshees and

slay the critics this night?

Because they see all

and they cannot be seen.

I entered in your dioramic view

from a crawl space,

where you could not see behind.

From this lofty spot I dreamt of you,

in senescence and supine.

The other night,

when I told you what I thought of your design,

the path that you chose, deceived us all.

the other night I chose to be the only one,

the one that told you and freed us all.

But paint doesn’t come off dry.

I left it there despite.

The set’s a brilliant red,

I painted you instead