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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3583 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Wind and Lace M. Kathryn Black The ceiling lamp hangs like a decrepit moon over the living room, casts indifferent light against a gray day and two small windows. This is a time when a cigarette doesn't satisfy, when even crickets are silent, but Theo is not; his voice drones drearily. Yet it's better than the rock and roll tune he'll play over and over, hoping to scratch a need. The bass guitar thudders up through my rooms. Must I be a stranger in my own parts? A breeze captures the lace curtain in its thrall; both are like lovers at a ballroom dance. I remind myself that the wind isn't always kind, that once it stopped the heart of a dear friend who wanted to embrace a hurricane with both arms. I've paid too much for my safety--ten gold eggs, one for every five years I've been alive, one for every child not born, but nothing guarantees long life nor a painless death. That can't be bought. I look toward my window; the dance continues, and I think all we need is heartfelt music. |
