stranger danger?

magenta velvet

     

In so strange beautyberry time

when every hour swung abrupt from grief to glee

and back to grief once more

the sky was bright, the sky turned brutal dark

early evening air was deadly ice

cozy moon shone out round cheeked

The deep December after-midnight air

proved sudden balmy, oddly soft

Embrace and goodnight kiss surprised

so brief! hushed! chaste! yet somehow beautiful

And after early lively talk, wine, song

parting conversation earthbound, drear

dull dangers of dim lights

glum threats of falls and fractured bones

Beneath it all lurked simple truth

something sudden manifest! earlier that same December day

halfhidden on a small shop's tight-packed rack

a dainty kind of garment, never seen before —

magenta purple, velvet, silk

a fragile, most unlikely . . . bra?

bralette, perhaps? bustier? or camisole?

lithe haven, sanctuary — a yielding curvy purple place

to gently hold two breasts

Before . . . before bereavement, deadness, drear grey daily grief

she would have cried out loud

spying such a pretty thing

so oddly there, by merest chance

wild colour! calling out to her so bold

imagining her love's response, his eager eyes, deft hands

upstairs awaiting greenlit, steep steps quick climbed —

Now pointless, all such feelings dead and gone, of course

six long years past . . . she shrugged, sighed, walked away

and yet, in minutes turned right back

snatched up that tiny curve of ruddy furry silk —

she rescued it! or so it almost seemed

judging by her sudden hurried steps,

fast grab of her two hands as she gripped hanger hook

took purpled prize to curtained booth

in cold day air she shivered, stripping off —

in mirror swift discovered, as if meant

strange garment was, indeed, a perfect kissing fit

Impulse purchased — one quick click! and soon, at home

bold bra did further prove its fitness. . .

colour match exact for panties waiting patient there

in dusty, tight-closed drawer . . .

soft lingerie of purple silk and lace

so very long unworn

Love gift, from her long dead love

now sweetly paired with new and different

Yet somehow feeling . . . right, all right

perfected newfound match

Would wear them both together swift —

old and new

beneath her proper simple weekday garb

that very night, she vowed!

when time was right

if time was right

if time were ever to be right

But red light sudden shone

time turned out strange . . .

sweet, then dulled, then savage, angry ill — not right

Not right, the opposite — dark, harsh, full of pain

Can things — can life, perhaps, still come out right?

Wild world with errant velvet bras

so sudden manifest

may shout out no

(may also whisper yes?)