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Through your eyes

by nickb 

Posted: 11 March 2009
Word Count: 245
Related Works: Girl at Bangor Station • 

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In the mirror this morning someone had taken my place.
It started with just a wisp of significance before my shower,
lingering in the soap and hot water, eyes shut,
pondering the heat. But then reaching for the towel
I caught a likeness of someone who should be me.

Whoever it was, dripping there, was younger than me.
His eyes had an intensity of trusting blue beyond mine,
and in them was elation, rupturing the close curtain
of jaded years.
His lips implied a smile, the slightest upturned glint
of laughter glistened in that wet face with the
ease of a good joke.

Maybe it was the bright morning glancing on his
wet body which made it look vigorous, far more
taut and lean than mine. Each movement sinuous
and supple with clean lines curving away to meet
the next in a single, visceral whole.
His arms made long sweeps with the towel,
drying hair and face, torso and legs until
suddenly he stopped, and with a faint speck
of recognition stood staring back at me.

We stood, this apparition and I, waiting to see who
would make the next move. Drops of water
slipped from the shower head in a steady beat,
then stopped. And in that perplexing moment I
saw your knowing smile, bewitching eyes clinging to mine.
“I wish you could see what I see” you had said
last night, as you dropped your gaze and
laughed nervously, fingers drumming the table.






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Comments by other Members



Bishti at 00:54 on 15 March 2009  Report this post
Hi Nick,
This is an interesting poem, and I liked it. It describes the insecurity we all feel, and the root of that insecurity in the final stanza nurtured by the comment 'I wish you could see what I see'
I found I could relate to the reality check you describe so well.

A couple of comments for you to ignore at will.

I wonder if the last three lines could form a stanza of their own, because of the change of perspective here?

Also, without changing any of the words I wondered about the rhythm.
e.g.
Whoever it was, dripping there, was younger than me.
His eyes had an intensity of trusting, blue beyond mine,
and in them was elation,
rupturing the close curtain of jaded years.
His lips implied a smile,
the slightest upturned glint of laughter glistened wet in that face
with the ease of a good joke.

Best wishes
Carol



nickb at 14:21 on 18 March 2009  Report this post
Carol,

many thanks for the kind words and sorry it has taken a while to respond - been working away for a few days. It's interesting what you say about the rythm, I take your point. Always amazes me how changing things around make it sound quite different.

Nick


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