Between Seasons

Walking the neighborhood streets I glanced
Into a lit window, behind which a man was standing
Staring into the white of the living-room wall

And the privacy within my head was suddenly
Less private as he turned his face and locked
My eyes in his, which startled me, so I began

To hum a minor tune, as if joining too late
An orchestra's final song and just then he invited
Me in, removed my clothes before covering

My body with red paint and pressing me
Against the wall he said Once you are gone
This will be the proof you became something

More than who you are, but outside, the flowers
Grew bleak in the garden's dim bloom and
The minor tune I had started was still going on.

Copyright © 2010 Rob Schlegel All rights reserved
from Barn Owl Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission