Prelude To A Shoulder Massage Poem by Jette Blackstone
Prelude To A Shoulder Massage
I think he's in the study
He's studying
Something classical is wafting
through the door into my ear
It's pulling me into the room
as if I'm a south pole and he's the north
And a northerly breeze
escapes through the fireplace
stokes the fire
to a brighter hue of blue
Rub my shoulders
I hear him say
and a light switches on
and the wind calms
and I draw my eyes into the flames
forget his pallid sky my closed curtains
There is a chill in this poem and the soul appears to be obediant to the magnetic polarity that attracts her to this man. Yet she knows they are poles apart. It does seem to add up to a loveless union and perhaps she is on the verge of some awakening.10+
I like this, Jette—the economy of words, the suggestiveness of it. It reminds me of my poem When I Should Be Working. All the best to you! -Glen
There is a separation somewhere here, a 'northerly breeze' that can be felt A cooling off of sentiments, that brings no warmth and doth the snow not melt. Sadly but very well executed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 2:41:21 PM # 1.0.0.1119
And a northerly breeze escapes through the fireplace This was my favorite couplet. I love the juxtaposition. Nicely done!