A part of me thinks the poem starts at the wrought iron balconies. It's the diaphanous that stops me a bit. The rest is good. I like that girl.
J
On 04/09/2013, at 7:38 AM, Bill Wootton wrote:
> Avignon glimpse
>
> A diaphanous white curtain
> wafts
> as if waved by an unseen hand
> revealing
> wrought iron balconies
> at eye level,
> then
> misting
> bare linden trees
> in the cobbled square below,
> where a girl sits
> sunning her legs
> on a café chair,
> smoking Winstons ferociously
> before accepting a question
> from one of two young labourers
> in shorts and workboots
> who has come up
> behind her;
> waves her hand,
> mutters something in French,
> stares straight ahead,
> exhales,
> waits:
> un, deux,
> turns,
> snatches up her handbag and smokes,
> arcs off in their direction.
>
> bw
>
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