it wasn't something you would ever notice
she thought,
dipping red nitrile-covered hands into
the tray, caustic tendrils of vapor
rising
agitating
the copper plate
swimming in light blue
image biting deeper with every minute
him standing there with her, but
not just regular standing there
his arm around her shoulders.
his arm around her shoulders
why?
perhaps her grandmother died
or her rent was late--facing eviction
these were the only acceptable reasons
why he should be standing
his arm around her
his cheek to her cheek
like jenna wasn't even there.
so now she was here.
smoking on the balcony
where countless balcony smokers had stood before
where she could count on something
besides the smell
and incorporeality
of smoke
count on the acid to bite the plate
chlorine rising into her nostrils
the press to roll the paper flat
ink smelling of linseed
pass by pass, crushing out the image
of the three of them
micron by micron.
***
Jeez, I might be the only person I can think of who would actually write a poem about printmaking. What a nerd.
This week's piece was inspired by this photo from Flickr user Donina. You might also find Flickr Fiction on the sites of The Gurrier, Tea and Cakes, Elimare, Chris, Mina, and/or TadMack.
7 comments:
Like the imagery... wasn't sure what the subject was until your comment at the end.
Same here, but I had visions of a strange environment with intense colours and smells.
I like the way the chemical compounds and the act of the print making slowly bring the piece into focus.
Thanks, guys. As usual, I didn't have the kind of time I was hoping for to work on this, but it seemed to call for a poem-ish thing. (I don't write a lot of poetry, which might be painfully obvious.)
I think that you've all captured something of the same feeling, surprisingly enough: that of loneliness, melancholia ... a certain isolation. That comes through in yours, Donal's and TadMack's for certain ... am now getting to the rest.
Keep it up! I know I certainly enjoy them.
(p.s. Printmaking is nerdy? Nerdier than canning and knitting? Whee!)
Printmaking is one of those "obsolete arts" that requires some explanation and a weirdly obsessive personality, I think. Painting has this whole macho mystique; ceramics has the sensual hands-on appeal; drawing has a sort of basic purity.
But printmaking...imagine being able to make that perfect drawing or painting, and then being able to make MANY MANY IDENTICAL ORIGINAL VERSIONS that can still be considered fine art, because you made the plate yourself and probably printed it yourself, too.
Anyway, that's probably not very exciting, but I like it.
Have NO idea how I missed this one before... it's ephemeral, in a way; sort of a fever dream of all kinds of subtle things until it comes out -- a picture. Well, a print, anyway, cloudy and then solid - but not so clear that it's ordinary, if that makes any sense. Like it.
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