Mar
Literati!
Mon fils Morgan has bested the cyber stinkers who derailed our site for a few days, and we are back in business. We have about a dozen stories to post that were received before the Ides of March deadline, and this entry by new-comer Andrew Perez is one of them. Here again, poetry and narration reveal their most intimate relationship. Why do I think women rarely say no to this guy? Deciduous for yourself.
I Keep Asking if It’s You
by Andrew Perez
I had killed a flower on our first date. On her steps I stood and she behind a half-open door which drew her gibbous-ed. “Is it you?” my words drunk, fluttered like doves from a cage unlatched. “I think so,” she answered divulging the weightless magnitude of a deciduous moon.
We laughed. For years we lit velvet cigarettes beneath the trees and swapped smoke back and forth from each others’ lungs. But we didn’t call it kissing because what truly is never has a name. Over silken sheets our bodies coalesced, tendered—in a world full of knives.
She performed as dancer, clown, and mistress on and off the stage. Lemons ripened in the branches and jars filled with the bitter pulp forced sweet. In the errand of her absence the soft of the linen bruised my limbs.
Many months later in a concert hall our gazes met. An orchestra named Second Chances thundered while we spiraled like converging binary stars in a milky sea. At arm’s length before crashing she yielded to my right-of-way. An exchange of knowing smiles. But no hellos for which to owe goodbyes were said.
Though we’d collide; she nestled against the pillow of my cartoon heart. We danced, swimming in the cascades of her hair, and on a fallen eyelash I wished this time she would stay. By morning in the ashes of consummated exodus, a butt still smoldering told of her camp. The bite marks would last a little longer, take or leave a scar.
I sought to forget but with each sip as the image blurred the wanting came clearer. Within my dreams I’d invoke some forgotten deity to start again—to be infinitely struck-awed by her lightning—in the stead of a call I couldn’t make.
Sigh! Bittersweet – and brings the reader into the tale. Nicely done.
Thank you. Bittersweet, indeed!
beautifully written, Andrew!
I absolutely loved it! The mix of poetry and narrative is so interwoven that it weeps color
Excellent job!
Thank you, I wanted to steer clear of the poetry aspect but it just kind of happened–I went with it!
There are many jewels in those five hundred words I want to steal and use all of them. Terrific flow however I was always surprised where the poetry started.
Thank you for your comment; I never thought my writing could double for jewelry!
What a striking prose-poem, and a story as well. I love so many of the phrases, but this is a favorite: “We didn’t call it kissing because what truly is never has a name.” Your writing captures the surreal quality of a grand passion…and perhaps love. Only you know that secret!
Thank you. This means a lot. I was definitely going for a dream-like quality. I’m glad it wasn’t without merit! Also, this is a secret I won’t keep, that’s my favorite line as well.
Beautiful…. lyrical, as if a song….
Thank you! Especially a song that thunders!
Your portrayal of desire is melancholic and elegant, left me with romantic memoirs of a still not forgotten encounter. Thank you for this piece Andrew.
I’m glad that it could speak to you. And thank you for your comment.
Normally, I advise a writer to be indifferent to all critique (except my own, of course!) but in this instance, Andrew, I think you should accept the consensus that this writing is very, very good. The stuff, as Michael suggests, to be plagiarized by those of us grasping for originality. It is important to understand that there is a Youuu-u-u-ge (thank you, Bernie) difference between criticism and judgment. Most writers are more judgmental of themselves than are their readers. Ya done good. That is, I suppose, antithetical to what I just said, as it is a judgment. But ya done good.
I struggle, as I’m sure many do, with receiving criticism, so it is nice to receive positive judgement. Thank you for your comment. I will keep this always in mind.
Andrew – this a fantasy for the senses. My eyes wandered through the words – visions following, both meeting and binding as air does with the wings of birds. I appreciated the blending of poetry with prose and you have done a magical job of blending them together. Intensity and form, vision and reality – great combination.
Thank you Diane.
Andrew. This made my day as I sit in my garden soaking in the mastery and releasing to the wind of every budding word, emerging like a field of wildflowers. Untamed beauty in its purest form. Yep. I loved this!
Whoa! Thank you Kyle.
You kick my soul, Sir!
Thank you….
You’re welcome! Thank you Brian.
She performed as dancer, clown, and mistress on and off the stage. This is my favorite line. Love the surrealism you bring to the table. It’s like a dream that goes in and out. Killer work, man.
Thank you Jon!
This makes me think of poetry, the way hit it and quit it of imagery and arc. I I have to tell you, find me images for stories like these is not easy. Does the balance of lightheartedness dance appropriately with the gravitas? Sometimes a story comes with so much gravitas that you have to batter it upside the head with something ridiculous. But not with this. I think this was a beautiful realization of your submission. So kudos to you for writing such a wonderful work, and kudos to Thorn for presenting it so well.
Tiffany, thank you.