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Article Communautés Concours Essai Multimédia Personnelles Poèmes Presse Prose _QUOTE Scénario Spécial | ||||||
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agonia ![]()
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2010-10-09 | [Ce texte devrait être lu en english] |
A white car overtakes me on a bend,
and I read its skull-fractured flank, and consider how a car's story can be read from the eggshell crushings and debrided wounds on its chassis. Yet, how often do we read each other? ...the strange indentations, the key scrapes and the panel-beatings on our own frail bodywork? I think of the old people I know, with knobbled and skewed joints, twisted digits like the bamboo snakes at the fairground... or bent as a bracken-hook, toward the soil, wherein a lifetime has been dug, planted, watered... or the old soldier who holds his head high, his chin square and defiant against the irreverence that the cruel enemy, Time, can spew out. Or another, contorted lifelong, who stretches a smile like a gangling chick bursting forth from its unforgiving shell. And I touch you with my eyes square; I finger your lovable fractures, and beautiful and pale folds, and the cornered jaw set forward, the creases cutting the sides of your smile, cutting away from your sad amber eyes; the tired stoop of your shoulders upon which, I suppose, countless unliftable slabs of stone have been carried; your hands, like muscular, flat-footed dancers, striding, soaring... And I wonder if you see my own scars and breaks, grazes and skin-tears; whether you see the ache that sadness injects into my hands; whether the knots that longing ties in my belly leave their own stretchmarks and bruises; whether the twistings and leanings of life have warped my frame in the same way that my car was once slewed in a crash. I wonder whether you can tell that the chassis has been slammed slightly awry? Whether you can see the weak spots where rust has penetrated and ruthlessly eaten away the true metal underneath?
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