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    Montage

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    KeiKo
    The poem describes a woman's morning routine of getting ready for the day after a weekend of leisurely indulgence. She pieces together memories from the night before and settles into the structure of another work week. As she gets dressed and has breakfast, she exudes an air of mystery and renewal, dissolving her form in subtle tones while remaining a jewel ensphered in mist.

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    Montage

    Uploaded by

    KeiKo
    612 views2 pages
    The poem describes a woman's morning routine of getting ready for the day after a weekend of leisurely indulgence. She pieces together memories from the night before and settles into the structure of another work week. As she gets dressed and has breakfast, she exudes an air of mystery and renewal, dissolving her form in subtle tones while remaining a jewel ensphered in mist.

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    MONTAGE

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    The poem describes a woman's morning routine of getting ready for the day after a weekend of leisurely indulgence. She pieces together memories from the night before and settles into the structure of another work week. As she gets dressed and has breakfast, she exudes an air of mystery and renewal, dissolving her form in subtle tones while remaining a jewel ensphered in mist.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as docx, pdf, or txt
    612 views2 pages

    Montage

    Uploaded by

    KeiKo
    The poem describes a woman's morning routine of getting ready for the day after a weekend of leisurely indulgence. She pieces together memories from the night before and settles into the structure of another work week. As she gets dressed and has breakfast, she exudes an air of mystery and renewal, dissolving her form in subtle tones while remaining a jewel ensphered in mist.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as docx, pdf, or txt
    of 2

    MONTAGE

    Ophelia dimalanta

    Monday jolts and she bogs down, a ragbag

    Splayed off at tangents. Windows

    To the outside and flecks of faces

    Spring the morning clear at her

    To set her into her old dimensions.

    Piece by piece she puts on eight o'clock;

    Pillows and bedcovers in a tumble pat

    Her in place. The clearest cutglass

    Of grapefruit juice teetering on a silver

    Tray for breakfast-in-bed exigencies

    (Both for effect and effectivity)

    Is for a fact but fictive in the mind

    Which holds the fleeing moment longer,

    Stalls the stupor of the previous spree,

    Images of her beautiful in blank spaces

    Wandering truantlike in private regions

    Of the night, wisps of clouds jammed

    In one wicked corner of sleep. She hoards

    Them like a child at play, triumphantly

    Pieces them into a single total perspective:

    Splayed off tatters of Sunday, a dark

    Undiscipline of clouds settled right

    Into this alarming set-up environing

    Her Monday-world, jolted suddenly

    Into the teeth of everyday people

    And cluttering sounds of slapdash.

    She exudes it now becomingly

    As she glides and putters about

    By turns, spreads it as a scent

    Ambiguously enwombing her, her form


    Dissolved in semi-tones, nameless jewel

    Durably ensphered in mist, constantly reborn,

    Solid, whole in ever renewing shades.

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