Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Straying's Wish

Disenchanted, this slanted floor
whispers to me
through its tightly clenched slats.
Cranky tales of failed

first steps, I tip-toe past,

unflappable. End tables mock
my walk-by dare,
mouthing weak-coffee moans
from wood-grained circlets. Stains

surface, I sidle on,

as their knots fade. A lean-to shade,
the lamp tilts up
shadows with blunted beaks.
Clipped wings flapping deep-toned

airs, my unsettling makes

falsetto. Vents hiss librettos
to dissuade me
with their combed-over notes.
Forced-upon causes, pause

to caress fleeing ought,

envied. Wood shutters crack mutters
to trick a gaze
from pictured window's bliss.
Vagrant clouds cross crowds

of stars, my straying's wish.

— Francis Scudellari


Akeith Walters said...

What a powerful poem, filled with such smooth transitioning images.

gerry boyd said...

agreed. highly literate yet flowing. much to love here. "Vents .... notes" resonants. Like the quirky line breaks too. yum yum.

Francis Scudellari said...

Thanks guys. I struggled over this one for a few days, as it started out with a whole different narrative.

Jenny said...

Hi Francis,

Fine flow (as usual).

I am very fond of these line:

"mouthing weak-coffee moans/from wood-grained circlets. Stains"

I keep reading them again and again.