🦋 Morning
Lauren's wishing Peter would just
Drop this false persona, would just
Break this patterned silence
Where he's built a lonesome castle. Now she
Cries out in the morning when she
Wakes and finds him gone. She wishes
He'd reach out and touch her, wants
To hold him in his grief -- she wants to
Have back these long years that
she's been waiting for his voice. Peter's
Walking in the garden, where his
Winding paths are laid,
Blooming crocus in the springtime, blooming
Hostas in the shade, he wanders
Down the road to town, but nothing's
Open Sunday morning, now he
Rubs his eyes and wonders if he'll
ever find his home.
Expectation conquers knowledge and the
Evidence of senses; what I
see and hear and feel
I'll never grasp, I'll never find;
For all I cogitate and pray I'll never
Sit beside your bedside, seeing
Gauzy patterns traced out
On the page of wounded time.
She gets up, groggy, runs the water,
Steaming up the mirror, she hears
Peter downstairs in the kitchen,
hopes he's making coffee,
Lauren's tired out, she didn't sleep well,
Combs her hair and squints and in the
Mirror she can see the look of
anguish on her face.
She's downstairs with a cup of coffee,
Looking quizzically at Peter,
Peter's solemn face that just
can't seem to meet her gaze.
A question's in the air and they both know it, but the
heavy silence keeps their lips held tight; keeps
Heavy thoughts drawn back to yesterday.
 Still having some trouble figuring out where to take this. It seems like it could potentially make a really good short story in verse; but (a) how fucking pretentious would that be? and (b) I don't have a story, just a setting of the scene and introduction of characters. I guess that's as good a place as any to start at a story, but it's not any significant portion of the whole task.
posted evening of Friday, June 29th, 2012
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Question: what went down "yesterday"? Lauren and Peter can't be this distant and reserved from each other all the time, there must be something making the moment particularly awkward as the story begins. Also Tony's question last time I posted this poem, why is Peter this way? what is the "grief" Lauren is thinking of? worth considering, what is making Peter uncommunicative and insomniac?
posted evening of June 29th, 2012 by Jeremy
This is me just thinking about it: Probably nothing really happens right now. They won't talk about it today, or maybe they'll have a little (or big) argument without going to the real stuff later in the day. And then, should we really know about the reasons right away?
I'm finding this VERY interesting!
(I prefer Laura, BTW)
posted evening of June 30th, 2012 by Jorge López
Hey thanks -- I think you are right about "Laura", I switched her name back and it looks right now. Glad to hear you are liking it... I have written some more, I think I'll post it later in the day.
posted morning of July first, 2012 by Jeremy
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