“bone structure”

 

“bone structure”

 

no coyotes here

except the one in the photograph from a magazine

it stares every time I open/close the door

a grandmother with twin girls walking along the pond spoke to me today

odd twins–different eggs–not identical

odder yet her conversing with me who ‘fits’ nowhere

except perhaps in a complex sentence

and next to you

long day

not satisfied with it

the day that is

I could go to Shakespeare in the park

but I do not

I could go to the malls

but I never do

I could shop

I do not unless something is needed–nothing is needed

there is no wind blowing hard making my shawl fly

stars were clear at 4 am this morning

rain is supposed to come for four days

I can not find Waterlily

a bike ride would be nice– to ride around the lake

an old bike

a bike without gears or handbrakes

just a simple affair with two wheels and pedals, a seat

a horse might be  better

coyotes calling

turtles in the roads

you talking in the darkness

the little piece is finished with its cloud birds and mountains, red hand stretching reaching

am viewed askance when I drop off small watercolors and elsewhere film

is it the mauve dress?

my ‘free’ in the day  being?

or just ‘me’ as usual not looking quite like whatever it is they expect me to look like

I don’t care, never have

their stuff that

not mine

but I do notice

have to–self-defence

yet I know from how the young Russians came straight to me at the bus stop outside the airport in DC

was aware of them searching the waiting line for someone who might take them in hand, somehow, confirm their counting of bus fare bills, assure them the bus was right

I saw it in his and her faces as they looked at mine

bone structure old european enough to draw them like moths

the power of dna

confirmed their hopes, counted bills

on the way we spoke of Akhmatova, Pushkin, Bulgakov and how to not flash open wallets  in public, keeping the shoulder purse closed,

enough  to attract the interest of others

older black gentleman who silently offered four fives for their twenty

young Blake who knew the metro route and later kindly escorted them on red when I went blue

forty minutes, two young Russians, one older and one young African-American man, and me

all converging in the back of a bus to the metro station

–why–

my face was old world and they found it in the new

 

@wojcik

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9 Comments

  1. slpmartin said,

    January 9, 2013 at 4:03 am

    Years ago…a man who was working on maintenance…stared at me and named my grand mother’s and grand father’s tribe…I will really never understand how since I was over 500 hundred miles from hometown…he said ‘bone structure’.

  2. yerpirate said,

    January 9, 2013 at 7:21 am

    I really like that narrative style, and the wonderful last few lines.

  3. simonhlilly said,

    January 9, 2013 at 1:45 pm

    An easy, storytelling lilt belies the jewels of imagery within. I’ve just watched a film in my head. Lovely, resonant stuff!

  4. roos said,

    January 9, 2013 at 4:44 pm

    very much like this not a poem not a story not a novel but a playing with words, space there, enter there, long line here, one word line here

  5. lesliepaints said,

    January 10, 2013 at 3:46 am

    I like getting lost in your words, Eva. I would like to have met this person, the one in the poem.

  6. January 11, 2013 at 12:20 am

    Eva —
    Thank you for sharing this. My favorite lines?

    “odder yet her conversing with me who ‘fits’ nowhere \ except perhaps in a complex sentence” [“complex sentence” has awesome depth]

    My other favorite line?

    “my ‘free’ in the day being” [love how that describes the day and the totality of the speaker’s existence at once]

    And then, of course, all of it – for the experience of being able to travel through your day on your words – and just for being a poem – you know the sort of thing that brings you out yourself while recognizing something both new and familiar? Well, that’s your poem, too.

    Thanks so much.

  7. January 15, 2013 at 4:09 pm

    O hell, what am I going to do about this positive re-inforcement? Guess I’ll just have to serve more poetry to all of you kind kind people.

  8. lgambill said,

    March 16, 2013 at 9:28 pm

    Thank you for posting Bone Structure. Time can flow from present to past; and fortunately, sometimes quite eloquently.

    • March 18, 2013 at 3:20 pm

      I suspect time is much more “fluid” than we generally think. Hello lgambill. Thanks for reading and responding.


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