ManicDDaily

Banishing Act

Refusing
to grant her even a corner of his gaze,
he sent her into the X-aisle, not
the realm of the somewhat magical, but the dim
dead-end of the inferior–all those Brands X that
always fail, that
will forever be passed over.

The only way that she could tell
that she too was still in the room
(and not stocked in that
far corridor) was the slight swell of the carotid
at his throat, and, periodically, a shadow grasping
the skin that sheathed
his temple.

She tried to use
that stretch of artery as
a lifeline; that glisten at his brow
as a compass to replace
eyes’ mirroring; but even
the autonomic
seemed to turn its back on her, not easy
for someone raised
to please.

When he relented, admitting her again
into his realm, she found that she could not
readily reclaim her spot, but
rather like the wife of Lot (not able to not
look back) would dissolve periodically into salt
and distance, re-collection
a double-edged sword.

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The above is my offering for the Poetics Challenge on Exile (and other things, some of which have to do with James Joyce and Bloomsday) at dVerse Poets Pub.  I am hosting!  Check it out!

Also, if you have time, please please please check out my books: Children’s counting book 1 Mississippi -for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms.  Or, if you in the mood for something older, check out Going on Somewhere, poetry, and Nose Dive, escapist but very fun fluff.