Chair

 

Sunlight swells into buildings

rolls over my feet

gets trapped under my soles

At this moment

there is nothing more to say

 

When you rose to leave

your skirt

made the sound of a bird

caught in my hands

 

In the distance your silhouette

dark, then gray, then

birds landing on a statue

make the sound of your skirt leaving

 

Overhead, a low jet noise

I say something

but cannot hear myself

and across the table

the emptiness of your chair

===============================

from my 6th book: The Opening

(CTU Publishing)

©dah / dahlusion / CTU 2018

first published in Red Wolf Journal

Reviews

[R.E. Ray]

The sight and sound of a beautiful bird taking flight, never again caged or in the hand. Still wondering if that "jet noise" was her disappearing into the heavenly clouds or the narrator's desire to drown out the pain of her departure. Remarkable work, sir.

[DAH]

I love your perspective on this poem. Yes, to all of your answers in that the reader is always right.

I'm happy that it resonates.

Thank you, R.E.
DAH

[Einstein Noodle]

oh my ... all those goodbyes to lovers .. all that sadness wrapped in the sound of a skirt and the emptiness of that chair ... if my most severe heartbreaks were not so far gone in time ..and i old enough to know what wisdom and peace come from them ..i would be cryin' in me beer sir .. great stuff! going to subscribe and keep up a bit with your poetry .. again... thanks you for sharing
E.

[DAH]

I'm honored, deeply honored!

Thank You, E!

DAH

[barleygirl]

BRILLIANT! -- the way you use bird sounds to suggest her rustling skirt signifies flying away. Also, the last verse summons how one's mind is overcome with noisy sputtering sparks to the point where the roaring drowns out one's ability to process life for a bit after a split. Perfectly-chosen sounds to show instead of tell (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[DAH]

I love that you've picked up on all of the symbolism.

Thank you, Margie!
DAH

[Xuannu5810]

I love your first stanza, but after reading it a second times is seems so lonely. Normally I would equate the sun with good company but here it feels so empty. Such a good poem!

[DAH]

Thank you, X!

[John Alexander McFadyen]

This is such a fine poem. The opening stanza is just sublime as a description of sunrise! The parting is hardly sweet sorrow but the fact the protagonist notices the swirling sound of the dress points to his being fixated with every aspect of this woman.

[DAH]

Yes, I was "fixated with every aspect of this woman", and you have noticed. Thank you, John!

And thank you for this high compliment, for this fine critique.

DAH

[Kaede16]

The whole poem was a masterpiece. I could almost feel her escaping from my life. So descriptive and colorful. But the ending...the ending truly broke my heart. It wasn't what I was expecting from the title, but it was a pleasant surprise.

[DAH]

I'm impressed with your critique; happy to read that it resonates.

Thank you, K16
read moreI'm impressed with your critique; happy to read that it resonates.

Thank you, K16
DAH

[Dr. YumnaKay]

Your opening lines are brilliant, as well as the rest of your poem. I'm actually inspired by the metaphors in this, quite vivid.
Excellent piece of poetry here.

[DAH]

There's no greater compliment for a writer than to hear that their work inspires another writer.
read moreThere's no greater compliment for a writer than to hear that their work inspires another writer.

Thank you,
DAH

[jacob erin-cilberto]

oh my, this is good...
the sound of her leaving...like the sounds of birds fluttering in the hand---we hear the skirt, we see and hear her leaving...and the emptiness signified by the empty chair.
one of my mom's paintings hangs on my wall...it is of two empty chairs...makes the imagination fill those chairs...
love this piece.
j.

[DAH]

Thank you, jacob, for this fine critique.
I'm honored!

DAH

[Ted Kniffen]

The sounds and imagery are striking in this, DAH. You put me in a position which is quite familiar. Whoever has been lucky enough to hold a small bird in their hands recognizes the sound you describe...a rustling of wings like the rustle of cloth...and the light, brilliant enough to feel like furnace heat sweeping away the shade.
When she leaves...her silhouette dark, yet still in focus, fades to grey...then fades to nothing...leaving the sound of doves returning to the statue...their wings resound with the sound of her skirt.
At last the noise of a jet drowns out even the thoughts leaving you staring at her empty chair in bewilderment.

Or something like that. Not all love poems have happy endings.

A fine write, DAH.

[DAH]

WoW! I'm impressed with you as a poetry critic, Ted.

I like your critique as much as I like Chair.

WOW!

DAH!

[Robert Trakofler]

I looked at this piece cause i was thinking about chairs earlier today. particularly "thinking chairs" to be exact. My granddaughter has a thinking spot in my store and a thinking chair in that spot. This was not my idea it was hers although she is 4 at times her machinations resound like 44! when i read this i felt my feet get warm as i captured a speck of sunlight neath my soul. The transition of your machinations tween each stanza flowed perfect drifts from skirt to birds to empty in an authentic sensation of transference in my minds eye to my heart. word wizardry written

[DAH]

Love this story, and this fine review of Chair.

Thank you, Robert.

DAH!