he is watching me
through the window
across the street
ratty ribbons and dull medals
hang from his dirty green jacket
the crutch buys him sympathetic coins
i can hear the mad rattle
as he shakes his little tin cup
demanding that i see him
my smile is for the girls
as i lead them across the bright floor
which smells of warm wood and lemon
dancing
to the soft swells of bizet
they make silly faces and giggle at their reflections
trapped
between window and mirror
he is watching me
Rebecca Buchanan is the editor of the Pagan literary zine, Eternal Haunted Summer. She has been published in a wide variety of venues, and would like to reincarnate as a library cat.
Altered image by Nika Goltz.
3 comments:
I love the description of the ballet floor! The wood and the lemon remind me of my ballet classes when I was little! ~ Luisa
whole volumes in these details:
i can hear the mad rattle
as he shakes his little tin cup
demanding that i see him
my smile is for the girls
as i lead them across the bright floor
which smells of warm wood and lemon
----
Scary, or haunting, this demand and I think extremely true to the reality underlying the romanticizing of male gaze.
This gave me a shiver. Beautifully done!
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