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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4037 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Patterns M. Kathryn Black In this old city she looks down onto a cobbled rotunda where people flow around a fountain; shadows move counting the hours. Pigeons swoosh like a gray wave pass the church when a bell rings at noon. Rising in hot air toward her are pick-pockets and thieves entranced by her golden hair, but they cannot enter unless she invites them in. The sun has moved behind clouds; sibilant rays trail their tresses over red clay roofs in an array of perfect geometry. At four o'clock a distant cross is lit; she knows this is a sign and leaves. On her bicycle she follows the signs her intuition guides her by: the Roman numeral X in the brick at the corner of Triste and Algero, past the twelve on a door on Cuellia. There's a small tree in the shape of a bird with folded wings. And across the street she sees an open-air cafe with a filigreed iron fence and yellow marigolds. She stops and searches the crowd, then sees him sitting alone-- a foreigner in a suit drinking a glass of red wine; he is an older man. Though they've never met, she approaches him; he glances up and a fleeting look of recognition comes to his green eyes. |
