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Phantom
by David NeubauerHer hair was only shoulder length,
framing her face, but she
wore it like a shroud.
Her eyes seemed sad somehow,
blue but not shining,
intently focused far away.
I shivered
as she huddled in a grey dress,
lace billowing at her knees.
She stepped away from the wall,
a painting come to life for a moment,
and teetered uncertainly on her tiny shoes.
Looking at her, I ached to help,
but her gaze fell to the floor,
rested on chessboard tile,
then floated back towards nothing.
She seemed to sense my presence,
turned, and looked through me.
Unknowing, she walked past,
closer than a lover’s embrace,
without a single word.
I wonder which of us isn’t real? 02/15/2012 Posted on 02/15/2012
Copyright © 2024 David Neubauer
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Jody Pratt on 02/16/12 at 06:50 PM Very interesting perspective, and well told. At first I thought she might be looking in a mirror and you were speaking as the mirror's image (which would be epic by the way), but on the second read I realized near the end it takes a different turn. I would describe this poem as "beautifully haunting." |
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