Wednesday, April 25, 2018

Marianne Szlyk writes

The Memory of Fire

The sunset through the faded shade
reminded her of a Rothko:
yellow blazing over sultry orange

as if that evening had been
scorching, radiating, intense,
compelling them to undress.

But it wasn’t hot outside.
A clammy ocean breeze blew in
while the sun withdrew.

Elsewhere women shivered, huddling
in the bleachers beneath fizzing lights;
red-faced men drank pitchers of cold beer.

Along the harbor it was colder.
Couples strolled beside rough waves;
women wore men’s jackets before supper.

But the poster on her wall
reminds her of that sunset
and of the heat only she felt.

Now she shivers, letting go
as the wind reaches for her through glass.
Now she turns the page.
Related image
Orange and Yellow -- Mark Rothko

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