“and the afterglow…
of your gaze…is the only
sweater that I need.”
― Sanober Khan, Turquoise Silence

Here I am, languishing in the 

languor of the late afternoon  

with a bottle of wine, 

pining for someone who doesn’t  

care if I exist. I tell myself  

it’s the port that makes me  

reflect on Kachnar Trees  

with their pink mellifluence  

evoking sweet-sounding soprano  

arias, but on deeper rumination,  

I realise that it’s just me,  

making you a symbol, a sign of 

something wonderful, transcending  

quotidian rhythms and prosaic muses,  

everywhere but here in my arms.  

I know this is the very quixotism 

that made you keep away,  

the very madness that drove you away,  

and I don’t know what intrinsic  

flaw makes me revert to it,  

making you out to be someone  

larger than life, like an ethereal,  

pulsating orb of brilliant blue light  

sought by an adventurer in a fantasy novel.  

The truth is, you’re ordinary, and so am I  

and all the lines I’ve written  

mean nothing because they capture  

some notion of you that a feeling  

dredges up, painting you in one  

shade and urging me to accept it  

as the truth. There are layers to  

people that they themselves  

don’t understand, and if I were  

a fire-and-brimstone-spewing  

clergyman, I’d grab the T in  

Calvin’s TULIP by its hair and write 

a thesis about the heart being deceptively  

wicked. But I believe in our souls  

lying somewhere between cruelty  

and salvific beauty, possessing evil 

but capable of good, and I’d give  

a lot to portray you just as you are — 

a rusty cog in a machine,  

a broken-winged thrush struggling to fly,

and I’d like to move on after that  

to either sybaritic decadence  

or a redeemed tomorrow 

punctuated with the purple afterglow 

of someone who isn’t you.  

For dVerse

Photo by Nicole Avagliano on Unsplash

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4 responses to “Afterglow”

  1. She inspires beautiful poetry. Oh my gosh, the Calvin line to the end: greatness.


    1. Thank you so much Kelly. I often wish she didn’t. I wish someone else did lol. Thanks again. You’re very kind.


  2. Sometimes we have a lingering image along with vivid memories that we can never give up. But they may, by themselves go away. Mine did after sitting beside her for a long granddaughter wedding. Of course, we chatted nothing’s, my present ex was sitting on the other side. Possiblity of help was my failure to recognize her at first sight. My wife whispered to me who she was. Obviously my memory’s vision was faulted, I had thought she was tiny and thin while instead she was a fairly large lady, and older.
    I have not had that subconscious relationship ever again, it’s been ten years and more now.
    Sorry I rambled; like yours I had her as someone she was no more.
    BTW, we have several poetry slams around the Houston, Texas. I put a picture of the old house, now a pub of sorts, on my post this morning.
    It is at 411 Westheimer, Houston Texas –
    Open Mic Night POETRY SLAM, October 5


  3. There is amazing stream of consciousness emotion in this …. cheers!!!!


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About Me

Ordinary Person is a guy who likes to write. He writes fiction, essays, poems and other stuff.


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