The chalk was betrothed
to the slate
Placed equations and explanations
on black skin
simply to be
wiped away
As she felt herself losing
her ability to talk
the dust
was proof
fading away
Then with his blank stare
and hand ready to erase
She took this as a wave good-bye,
moved to the street
where the sweat
of a young girl,
movement of feet
and the rain
Could mingle with her skin
and her thoughts.
kjpgarcia 
This is lovely.
the epidemic story…thank you
I really like the ‘chalk & slate’ metaphor. There are so many sense sensations with the idea of chalk and slate; abrasive touch, clear words, uncomfortable sounds, dry unpalatable taste and the half chemical half organic smells. All of that brought so accurately and neatly to bear upon relationships and the transience of them, which again is the essence of the wipe clean slate and the removable chalk. Very clever and no small amount of poetic skill to get it ‘just so’ as you always seem to do. Impressive.
Thank you so much for such an in depth comment. I don’t know if I could write anything better about my own work.
Wow. Solid, man.
Hi kjpgarcia. Really nice poem. Thank you for liking my poem ‘The Charge’. Best Wishes, The Foureyed Poet.
Loved it, from such a simple (forgive me) pairing to get such power and emotion to a fine conclusion – enjoyed reading “Chalk” – more please ?
Thanks. It is a simple pairing but there’s something special in the mundane. Claes Oldenburg’s soft sculptures have always held a special place in my mind. There’s always another way to see everything.
Agree one hundred per cent, that “other way of seeing things”? Yessss! Thanks for this new way of looking.
Oooooo….I really like this!
‘Poet, pseudo-philosopher, blue collar overnight worker, former cook, vegan, coffee drinker’, kjp we seem to have a few things in common.
work and word combinations that are so different from my own always sparks my interest, i followed you so i could return and dig a little deeper.
thanks for liking my poem, it was only my second attempt.
your like means a lot.
peace.
I adored the sense of amatory youth and urgency that your words evoked in me. Maybe its a hint of nostalgia’s past memories expanding into our collective consciousness. This projection offers a familiar sigh that can only be summed up as our ‘glory days’ so that it may maintain that echo seemingly lost in our layered yesterdays!
Poetry is read only by poets and that’s its sickness.
~Carol Rumens
I wish Rumens wasn’t right.
This (Chalk) is really good – I do like it
David
PS thanks for popping in at http://ja2da.com
This poem left me in awe. Reminds me of Maya Angelou.
I really enjoyed this poem and your word use in it.