And every time she says yes to you,
she starts inventing ways to say no.
How about dinner, Sunday? Yes.
She spies the dust on the bookcase, the
clothes to be ironed, and the dog hasn’t
been brushed in days. Sunday, maybe
She’ll get a head cold, that bronchitis
that persists, stirred up by the motes
dancing in the autumn light streaming in
her bay window. Maybe the drawbridge
catches on the roof of her mouth and
she can’t speak or kiss, so no stays
stuck in her throat.
Every time she says yes, she is
saying no.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Please share your thoughts. My instinct says the last stanza needs to go. What do you think?
Thank you for reading.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
inextricable
"Are you anything akin to me, do you think, Jane?"
I could risk no sort of answer by this time; my heart was full.
"Because," he said, "I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you — especially when you are near to me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land, come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapped; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly." Mr. Rochester and Jane (Ch. 23)
I may not be the only one who understands what you need, but I am one of the few who can provide it. Unfortunately, and as usual, the only one who stands in the way is you.
Post a Comment