The Formal Absence of Precious Things

[Reilley]

Though drowned for three decades

she steps fresh as creation

from the broken glass doors.

And then I remember, in that instant

that she is dead, and I am not,

this is another century, so

this must be another girl,

a newly minted stranger,

one with whom I will never speak.



I am awash in emotion -

not loss exactly

but a very particular awareness

of my own duration.



I see a beggar leaning against

a jewlery store facade,

his head pressed against the windows.

In those windows are small, empty pedestals,

formal absences of precious things,

now locked away for the night.



His legs wrapped in brown paper

look vaguely medieval,

a knight crafted from office materials.

He is the color of pavement,

his very race in question,

yet when he looks up at me

my own eyes peer out from his tangle of curls.



The girl who drowned so very long ago

settles down to my mind’s bottom,

swept down in a swirl of toffee hair

and less hurtful memories

to where my youth turns gently

in its accustomed tides

and I am more comfortable that way.

[Brigid Briton]

Well, as I live and breathe, it's Reilley! It's so great to see you back here on the forum. I love your new avatar and this poem is really great. So many delectable (although disturbing) images!

I hope you'll visit again soon.

[Fire Monkey]

Reilley! Man, you been a naughty boy, you let your face grow long. [or at least so your new avatar would suggest] Nice to see you.

A nice poem to return with - I do like it. It reads easy but sits a little less so as it stirs up some disquieting thoughts with a lovely bit of imagery. A poem to make one think and feel - which in my books is a good thing.

[SweetSilverBird]

This is really an incredible poem. I am in awe.

[saore]

Very nice poem.  Excellent writing.

Sergio

[eiken]

Reilley,
Your writing is quite amazing, wow to this poem I particularly loved the third verse, I got lost completely to your poem at this point, loved it.

[hazelmsmith]

Wow! this is quite spine tingly - I loved it.

[Daniel Mark Extrom]

Hi Reilley.

Amazing!  Truly.
 
I particularly like the stanzas about the beggar, and your description of his "clothing" - "legs wrapped in brown paper," and "a knight crafted from office materials."

And "formal absences of precious things": a great line and a great title. And your eyes peering out from his tangle of curls.

Now, having said that: I just got done explaining to Brigid why I am not good at metaphor: Who is the drowned girl? She meant a lot to you. I just hate guessing and speculating.

Forgive me for not being able to figure it out, and maybe it is none of my business and that is why it is not overtly stated, and maybe that is the point: you would have told us who it is if you wanted us to know.

Things like that tease me, and I feel like (A) I am either stupid for not figuring out the answer to the riddle on my own, or (B) I am prying into something that is not my business. Or (C) maybe it's something else entirely.

Fill in the answer in the blank provided! (Note: there is no blank.)

I really like the images and the word choices!

Sincerely,
Dan

[Reilley]

Hi Dan, thanks for the kind words! 

Both the girl and the beggar represent, at least to me, the loss of important and precious things, the girl perhaps past loves, or human relationships, the beggar more material things, y'know, stuff.

As simple and as complex as that, really. 

Chris

[Daniel Mark Extrom]

Thank you, Reilley! 

I feel better. That's the thing about metaphor. If poets live in the world of metaphor, as Robert Frost said (and I will admit that I only know this because I read something that my daughter's high school teacher assigned, and not because I actually read an essay of Frost's on my own!), then readers will always look for metaphor even if there is none! And in fact, by the power of suggestion, they may actually invent one because they assume that one is there.

I have a problem, don't I?

Help me!

Dan