MONO ISSUE 2 - Flipbook - Page 17
WARNING AND A WISH
by Tony Rauch
YOUR BRA ON THE clothesline, glowing like a bright cathedral, the bright sun highlighting
every lacy detail, enlightening lacy straps, delicate fringe, calm and serene, silky soft
smoothness whispering in the breeze, shining as an angel
Your bra in the flowers, on your flowered bedspread, hanging over a chair, as a great
empty void warming our bed. Your bra on top of your clothes basket, in the grass, in the
sun, in the wind, fluttering in the pale blue sky
Your bra on my breath, in my dreams. Your bra to warm me, to calm me, to soothe me
into sleep, like a new country stretching out before me, above me, beneath me, beyond
me. Should I raise it to me, rub it against my cheek? Should I hold it, caress it, dare to
dream of it, wrap myself within it, remember it? Should I remember it?
Your bra, flowing through the bright blue sky, growing in the air, as full as the giant
clouds, iridescent, sparkling, dissolving, so far away, so far away
Your bra as a promise, a promised land, a promise kept. Your bra as a lie, another wish,
a dream, a cure. Your bra as my pain, my despair, my foreboding dread, my loneliness, a
promise broken. Your bra as your breath, your eyes, soft hair, soft skin, warm smile. Your
bra as a ghost, an angel returning
Your bra as the giant rabbit that sat next to me as I slept and dreamt on the bus. Your
bra as the magical weapon to relieve the fog of sadness, with its warm healing powers
rushing through me like an electric kiss. Your bra, its delicate lace, dissipating into clouds
in the sky, forming lacy cathedrals in the air, churning soft creamy silk, luminous flowing
liquid, a warm wind to fill the cracks, to calm the voids, leaving me awestruck, rendering
me stupid once again
Will I see you again? Will I remember you? Will I remember distant years from now,
each second falling away so fast, slipping into forever, drawn under waves crashing onto
stones, sliding under sand in windswept deserts, folding away in churning clouds
Your bra in my hopes, my dreams, in the grass, on a blanket, on the wood floor, in the
bright blue sky. So many places to be. Your bra as an exhaled hope, lonely at the bus
stop, sinking on a hot jostling bus. Your bra all alone like me. Your bra so resilient,
stronger than me. Your bra in the sky, the wind, as a symphony in the weeds by a muddy
creek, as a giant engulfing fear, as proof that I feel, that I am alive, each flutter in the
breeze a beat of my heart
Your bra as a prayer pending, as mysterious lights inching across my ceiling at night –
dreamy lights from the distance, mysterious shapes slowly moving away, a shopping cart
overturned in an alley, a refrigerator in an overgrown lot, a rusty wagon in a ditch, and me
with nothing to lose, with nothing ever to say, me with only a couple of words, old words,
used words, found words. And now your hair. I remember your hair, forever shining like
copper, blowing in the sun, so bright I can barely look, so radiant, a blinding glow. And
now your eyes – pools of blue growing to become the sky, your sky unspooling into
forever, so beautiful as you evaporate to become the wind and run right through me,
forever rushing warm and cool, forever churning in the sky so bright, so luminous, so free
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