of red barns and canal water

she sat in a red barn, on the velvet sofa, 
quite comfortable in her 
forgotten world
 
wiped the perspiration from the nape of 
her neck
 
sipped the sweet tea like she sipped 
a kiss
 
her legs went from here to there and back 
again, waited for her lover
 
looked out the awning covered window,
a beautiful face reflected 
on the still water,
 
ran deep, like her emotions;
 
the canal had an appetite for quietness, 
preferred it, a vow of silence
 
cigarette ash fell onto a hand-sewn rug 
like soot on an english roof
 
her impatience grew;
 
he sold postcards and slides,
had weekends off,
didn’t impress her
 
he had postcards of the same red barn,
next to a serene canal
 
his relationship with her was anything but;
 
if he flipped them, animation appeared,
could see her looking 
out the window
 
she had the attitude of wild dogs running
on tin roof tops
 
never let the breeze in,
 
was afraid it would extinguish 
her cigarette
 
ashes tattooed the hand-sewn rug
like carneys got tattooed
 
backs of the postcards were all
addressed to him
 
she spelled out her anxieties like a 
long range weather report
 
sold all of them to a blind man with a
tin cup and a tin seeing eye dog
 
bought the pencils…
 
 
Copyright © 04/01/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry
Image
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