Mudlark No. 48 (2012)

Waiting Room

It’s the glow of women on magazine covers.
Cliffs on the Iberian coast. That blue on blue
sky on sea, the shallow depths along Pula,
its Roman amphitheater, an almost remembered
odor of gladiators, a sweaty horizon, the dull
ache after tooth extraction, this small woman
waiting for her husband to emerge almost 
tall again, his trembling hand in his pocket,   
insouciant as sunrise. Who wouldn’t ask for 
opinion, where the heart skips a beat, the lung
implodes (only for two seconds), and a song
moans (groans, simpers, pleads, seeps, oozes)
like a overly thin rouged singer in a 1930s. 
film?  Is that me bent over, kissing your hand?

John Allman | Dedication
Contents | Mudlark No. 48 (2012)