Resolution

3 Nov

 

Stories start in all sorts of places. Where they begin often tells the reader of what to expect as they progress. Castles often lead to dragons, country estates to deeds of deepest love (or of hate), and ambiguously presented settings usually lead to equally as ambiguous characters and plot, leaving a reader with an ambiguous feeling of disappointment. That’s one of the worst kinds. — Rebecca McKinsey

 

While they take a test

on the five points

of the plot arch,

I ponder.

How will this story

walk itself up

such a precipitous path?

 

Two black and white dogs

precede

a woman and a man,

in exposition.

Their round laughter

rings the trees

in gold leaf

turning.

 

The setting unfolds,

the russet red blanket

of Indian summer

curls against the cold

to bare Autumn’s toes.

Over dusty stones

strewn upon

a deeply creased

earthen path,

come complications,

a jumble of

remnant rock

and snaring root,

or ghost and bone of those before

who have met their end.

 

Clasped hands,

a fulcrum steady

as a long stick of oak

foreshadows

the coming climactic view

of  two lovers,

framed in darkening

cobalt blue

against carpets of

crimson cloud

hammocking

a rising moon.

 

The flat of his forearm

presses the small of her back,

her soft elbow winds round

his nodding neck.

 

This denouement of

summer’s wishing,

is a cut paper portrait

on the wall of day’s end,

unframed.

 

Only a sentence left

to resolve

what’s left.

The end,

of this fall.

 

 

“Resolution” was written on September 3, 2014

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