Infanta Poem by Ioanna Carlsen

Infanta

Rating: 3.0


For a moment it flashed
through me, I thought I
remembered being someone before now,
the her who was me
hurt, felt,
embedded like a whorl in wood.
The photograph is black and white,
but I know the dress was amber--
she bells out toward me,
her fingers resting against
a cage of satin,
she stands the way I do
already--is that it--
or have I never forgotten how
to stand like her?

If I could just take the fire with me
into the next room I might sleep
and stumble into the black hole
of that photographer's studio,
back into the frame,
a wax doll, head and hands
emerging out of her costume,
like the infanta of Velasquez,
her future already in place,
maids-in-waiting, a dog, the dwarf,
everyone staring into a dream so dense
nothing ever escapes it.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Dr Antony Theodore 10 March 2019

embedded like a whorl in wood. The photograph is black and white, but I know the dress was amber- a very fine poem. tony

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Rajnish Manga 10 March 2019

Great imagery coming out of a rare nostalgic moment. Thanks & Congrats.

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A great poem on a peep into the infancy roused by the old photograph

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Ratnakar Mandlik 10 March 2019

Infanta of Valasquez.. Nice poem. Enjoyed reading.

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Khairul Ahsan 10 March 2019

'the her who was me hurt, felt, embedded like a whorl in wood' - a nice work of a skilled wordsmith!

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Bernard F. Asuncion 10 March 2019

A well crafted poem by Ionna Carlsen..................

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Anil Kumar Panda 10 March 2019

That's a very interesting poem. Enjoyed thoroughly. Thanks for sharing.10+++

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Edward Kofi Louis 10 March 2019

To stand like her! ! 💃 Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

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