Picnic
Intro: an old one..
Main text of your writing.
Above our heads a belligerent sun
elbows its way through stuttering clouds
as we spread out the tablecloth in ritual fashion.
No eye contact.
Indifferent shrugs
far more cutting than verbal abuse
curdle the early morning air.
A nervous silence thick as custard
oozes from each stinging-nettle grimace and gesture
as we spread out the cheese
and bread and wine
in our usual methodical manner.
And the car looks on in sullen spite.
I lose concentration and my fingers brush her hand
by accident and she recoils at the invasion
(neither of us taking offence).
The kids have gone- to God knows where
and we sit in our wordless hell.
I drink most of the wine (she is driving)
But we share the food.
Sometimes I even forget her name.
We tidy up rising simultaneously
and limp back to the car.
The car sneers upon our return.
I hear it snigger as she inserts the key
into the lock.
The engine snorts in contempt
then home to an empty house.
A very atmospheric poem full of imagery describing the alienation of two people. The line “The kids have gone- to God knows where” suggests to me that this is due to the empty net syndrome which has created a vacuum in their relationship. Yet ordinary rituals, like a picnic, are still performed by the couple who are in denial about the break up.
Excellent writing, Aramis. Well done.
I don’t know what happened but earlier I commented that this was an excellent description of a situation. Good job.
This is a really atmospheric, evocative piece of verse. I love the car anology = the snarl, sneer and snort. Worthy of the nomination as it stands. I do think it could do with another review, though. “We tidy up rising’ reads as one single action. ‘The car. The car” is an inelegant repeat for me? Perhaps you could also leave out ‘back’, in ‘back to the car’. And ‘into the lock’ after ‘she inserts the key’. It makes it seem less of a simple statement of fact for me..
Cheers,
Jim
For me this is excellent, the metaphor so descriptive. Well deserving of the Nib and Nom. I hope to read more of your work. “a nervous silence thick as custard” brilliant stuff.
Mike
Many thanks to all for your generous comments-Don