Sunday, March 27, 2011

In a Grey Space (Poem)

Roger Allen Baut, Time Wave Zero
© Roger Allen Baut Used With Permission

In a Grey Space

We build the undoing
a layer at a time,

creating the predictable cycle
always begun with the word

first missed before misheard.
The fissure, so tiny, unnoticed

for being so deep below
the unrevealing surface, records

itself in the body's own register,
that adjustable timepiece

pulsing among the hidden
geographies. Like others you mine

the striations of freezing
and thawing, looking for clues,

how the patterns will open
out of winter's shimmery light.

The peaks come in waves
you can count on flat-lining.

© 2011 Maureen E. Doallas

I wrote this poem for the One Shoot Sunday event at One Stop Poetry, where you'll find instructions for today's Picture Prompt Challenge using Roger Allen Baut's image above.

Go here to add your poem or flash fiction responding to the picture or to access the pieces from the many other contributors.


Lisa said...

Very nice post. Vivid!

Glynn said...

The photo has at least two perspectives -- the waves and the layers -- the layers almost being like geological time. You captured both with your beautiful lines. Great poem, Maureen.

the sad red earth said...

Nothing like opening and closing with a pair of couplets that pack an understated wallop.

Steve Isaak said...

Solid work, enjoyed the lead-up.

Kathleen said...

I like how the couplets create layers and lines...

S. Etole said...

I know nothing of couplets, but I know I like your poem ... and all its hiding.

vishwasanand28 said...

Beautiful! I like the way your words melded into layers:)

Cassandra Frear said...

For some reason, this poem recalls marriages I have witnessed. My own is happy, but there is sorrow for others. Can't it be mended? I wonder. Is there a point of no return? (Assuming both partners have been faithful to one another.)

You don't have to answer my questions. I was just letting you know how the poem echoed for me.

Ami Mattison said...

Wow, Maureen! The beginning couplet is fantastic, and it just gets better from there. This seems a "love" poem in the broadest sense. How communication happens at the microscopic level (of the word) and from the tiniest "frissure" can fall apart, suggesting the fragility of human relations.

The images are fantastic. And that ending--flat-lining--is as strong as the opening.

Fine writing, as usual, Maureen!