She sat next to me
eating grapes
but seemed
93 million miles away
~like the sun~
she uttered,
“Do what thou wilt,” and
like some pagan ritual,
I removed my hat
as she scrunched her sour face
and walked away.
Now I ask:
What kind of spell
wipes out the dawn?
For my heart hurts
every morning
as I remember the
folly of my lie,
and I dwell in the
darkness of her good-bye.
My response to dVerse Poets Pub Poetics: Exploring Narrative Voice
Ingrid is our guest host for this week’s Poetics, and she would like us to explore the role of narrative voice in poetry, not simply poet-as-narrator, but poet-as-creator of a fictional character with a strong narrative voice.
Tricia Sankey 
A great response, Tricia: I feel as though perhaps your character had fallen victim to a Queen of the last line! This type of woman is merciless…
I especially liked how you began with the puente form.
Yes! I just fixed the line breaks, so it’s 4 on each side of the puente bridge now! This character must have told a zinger of a lie to the Queen to get so burned! 🔥
😅
I wholeheartedly agree! This feels like a stellar sequel to the Queen of the last line 😀 and I so love that you chose to write this as a Puente! Gorgeously rendered! 💝💝
Thanks, Sanaa! ❤❤❤
I read it as the myth of every bad encounter on the bridge to love. Well done –
Thanks so much, Brendan! ❤
Dear Tricia,
Oh I love that last line as topping the brilliance of all the others! Buster Keaton came through loud and clear in all his sad-eyed roles.
~🕊Dora
So pleased you enjoyed that line, Dora, always appreciate your comments! 💕
I leave him dwelling in the darkness of her goodbye. Should’ve kept on his hat!
😆 Yes! He needs to crawl back, thanks, Beverly! 🌹
I love that description of the sour face, folly of the lie and darkness of her good-bye (sadness to the encounter).
The question gave me pause:
What kind of spell
wipes out the dawn?
Thanks, Grace! He feels like he’s been cursed there, as he lost his sun. To give further insight into this poem, I had briefly studied Crowley with his Thelema religion and love of the number 93. Their motto is “Do what thou wilt” It’s occultism and I believe he was pretty much Satanic!
A dynamite rocking of the prompt, and yes another succubus banshee bitch is operating without impunity. You make the Peunte form more palatable.
Thanks so much, Glenn! Pleased you approve! ❤
Wow, so wicked and stunning. Beautifully penned!
Appreciate your thoughts, Lucy! ❣️
Tricia,
Impressive poem. What can I say that others have not already said?
These lines really called out to me,
“What kind of spell
wipes out the dawn?
Thanks, Ali! Happy those lines worked in this (as melodramatic as they are) I felt they should stay!
This is a delight and choc full of visuals to match the narrative.
Thanks, Helen! 💝
My heart so aches for him, to be cast aside as he was 😦 Your conveying of such emotion in so few words is profound.
So happy it touched you, thanks, Lisa! ❤🙏❤
You’re very welcome, Tricia.
What kind of spell
wipes out the dawn?
Rejection really bites! Great job on your narrative poem!
Yes, it does! Thanks so much! 💕
You have made creative use of the puente form in your narrative voice poem, Tricia, which is very effective with the ‘asides’ as bridges. I love the thought of her eating grapes and then scrunching her sour face, and the wonderful phrase ‘dwell in the darkness of her good-bye’.
Thanks, Kim! Appreciate your thoughts on those lines! 💝
There are so much said already… I feel that maybe this might be the dark lady of Shakespeare’s sonnets.
Thanks! I think so, too. 💯
Wow. I like every single thing about this.
Thanks so much! ❤
Excellent poem! A tragic one though.
Thanks, Susan! 💖
Excellent Tricia, so well written!
Thanks, Rob! 🌸