Staring

She tilts her head and looks at him.

With intent.

He, (nervous as a virgin,
late at night, in a borrowed backseat)
wrings his hands like a priest.

But his prayers are in vain.

Langurously munching his back leg
like a post coital cigarette,
she stares at me,

the alien milkiness of her eyes
arrogantly framed
in the voyeuristic ring
of my magnifying glass.

Such debauchery in a
quiet suburban garden!

This was inspired by the friday five at poefusion – to write a poem using the words backseat, ring, priest, garden, magnifying glass.

I was going to post an image to go with it, but decided it reduced the impact of the poem… here is a link to the picture that was in my mind as I wrote it.

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7 responses to “Staring

  1. well had you posted that photo… you are ever so right it would have destroyed the whole visual for me….

    i absolutley love the poem…. but that photo well…..

  2. You wrote such an interesting point of view in this poem. Almost microscopic but you enlarged it so we all could appreciate a macabre sense of love.

  3. Thanks Pam – glad you liked it.

    It’s effectively a slow zooming out: from the initial interaction, when it’s deliberately left uncertain what he and she are… to realising what they are… seeing them through the magnifying glass… the watcher’s motives… and finally the garden in which it all takes place.

  4. Sorry if the photo was an unpleasant shock Paisley – I’m rather a fan of insects so I thought it beautiful in a rather cold and alien way. But I can understand not everyone would see it that way!

  5. Clever little poem, Lirone. I rather enjoyed reading this and watching you bring it forward for all to enjoy in that suburban garden. Sometimes I enjoy watching the smallest creatures in their environment, too. Have a nice weekend.

  6. full. cool reversal of roles, last two verses,
    cooly layered.

  7. excellent… pam sed it well… who would have thought such things were carried on in a garden…

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