Man in Navy The man in navy has pale fingers, nothing round, his eyes blade blue, long nose finishing in silence - lips tight as button holes. See the approaching angle of his cigaretted hand and hair, from root to tip is night to bleaching sun. He sits in the manner of one very confident of his space, face acquiring a note of sardonic cool by that eyebrow’s gentle rise. On close inspection, what I love is the shadow bissecting his mouth and the wobbly stave of light on his sleeve as though the smoke of his addiction will swirl a treble clef. Would the black rectangles of his thighs support such infinite magic? And would such neat ears hold the tune?
Following the NaPoWriMo Acrostic style prompt, I selected a phrase from Federico Garcia Lorca as the beginning words of my lines: “The round silence of the night, one note on the stave of the infinite.”