Photo With Red Raincoat
You stopped me, solitary,
half-way across the rain-slick bridge
— a moving figure locked into perspective
at the clear convergence of edges.
My red raincoat ripped a flowing wound
into the starkness of that day,
forced fire from the dulled planks
into the simple symmetry
of the steep reach between us.
I waited for you on that bridge,
waited for you to focus
on my place in the picture,
on my burning presence,
the unavoidable point of it all.
Now, I see with your eye
those peculiarities of misty space,
the risky walk over water
deceiving in directness,
the call toward an unfamiliar landscape,
the disturbance of that sharp
red breach in the bridge.
© Elaine Frankonis, 1991