Poetry Thursday: This Time

If you have read a post here at Poetry Thursday before, you’ve likely encountered at least one poem by Ivy Tyson. She has contributed more posts here than anyone other than myself, and I’ve always been grateful for her work. Be sure to check out her blog, and enjoy the poem. Christ Abide.

this time

The first time
he walks by her
little table
in the sun-lit plaza
she misses him
entirely
because she is
looking
–long, intently–
at the building.
It reflects the light
all arches
steel and stone
reach high and soar
into the cream-blue sky
–beautiful, elegant–
and so she
doesn’t notice his
quick gaze.
He thinks she is
–captivating–
in the golden afternoon
with her dark eyes
pointed far
above his head and
he wishes
–fleeting, wistfully–
that he was just
a fraction
taller to her
notice.

The second time
she strolls by
him in the rain
where he
misses her
barely
as he watches
–tired, absently–
the figures shudder past
in the puddle
at his feet.
The lights shift
and the world dances
–uncertain, trembling–
in the water’s skin
where he
catches glimpses of her heels
and writes it off
to mere
imaginings.
She marks him
–striking–
and wishes he
would leave
reflections
and see her
stepping past.

The next time
he looks
left at the flash
of a camera
–blinding, sudden–
instead.
She glances down
when the crack
nearly trips up her
heels
–jarring, uneven–
and
they walk past.
–Nearly.–

But this time
he turns
as she rounds the
corner golden
sun in her hair
reflects in his eyes
–Sorry, I didn’t–
–No, really, it’s fine–
They step on
together, future
unknown past
the next bend
in the
street.
First time of
many.
–Hello.–

[Editor's note: When I asked Ivy for an author's note, all she gave me was this...]

Honestly, this one wasn’t deliberate enough for me to have much to say. Just another excuse to do narrative freeverse with a different little structural gag. And apparently with a chick-flick in mind.