Old City Glamour, A Poem by Jessica Wilson

Jessica Wilson - Old City Glamour

Imprints glazed over yellowed glass,
small hole shows distance
air trapped between marquee and my body
small bottle still chilled from the reception hall
a banquet of small teeth and chatter
no hall to remember our names.

carpets of cream and burgundy squares
spread wall to wall,
my train drags over the patterns
collecting tread and dust,
homage to those I conjure up as history swells
and my eyes beckon the marquee.

short haired girls in powder rooms
gift soft glance to passing sisters, careful of toes and arm abrasions.
I am only careful of the floor,
to mind the pools
swelling around years' old ware,
lock barely fastening to conceal the distance.
mine and other skirts.

I make haste for my partner, pull his great beige arm
up several floors and once again to the window.
where the marquee stares lively, stains the glass with reflection
asking me to touch it, smell its weight in thinner air, touch it.

unlocked, I walk my hands over the window.
pushed open, my arm swings wide into the thinness.
the taunting air menacing, and I unable to wipe intent from my smile.
cheap show, as I am pulled from gaining a closer look, but at least a taste given
what giant did hoister up such light? letters voluptuous and scarlet
proudly declaring its size to the city.
giving light to the passerby who feels his own size against her curves.

Lovely Titan, rescued by your glow
I am summoned over and over to greet you,
send tribute of bodies upon bodies, nakedness beyond ballrooms
and tiny slots of sealed doors. bricked up walkways leading
to nowhere and everywhere, fragments of what you've seen in mind.

I lay against the wall, let them draw my figure against the brick --
here is another for you to collect --
dead dreams and folly to your pretentious grandeur
you've always drawn a crowd, yet you keep secrets.

secrets tucked behind the walls, under the skirts and coatroom pockets
dapper gents and lascivious ladies whose intent grows warmer than your glow.
I tend to continue, erase my body from this wall, but keep this moment,
stamp it into your deck,
where I may only hope
to flop down beside your starlets
and rogues.

Jessica Wilson shared her poem with Departures in participation with National Poetry Month. You are invited to share yours as well.


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