Every Sunday some writer friends and I get together and each build a poem around a chosen word or theme, literal or figurative, stated or suggested. It’s good for the arty muscles. And to dig out those things that tend to collect deep down. This week’s word was: occlude.

~.~

I take a swipe at your tight face
pull it back, brush it off
you were 24, then
your bright smile
dark
your eyes
anemic
gone

I pinch you
bring you back, and
by and by with care, I
bring you forward, out into
this very particular
particular light,
this place I have shaded
by not shading,
drawn by drawing around you,
more screened, more diffuse,
really,
than chiaroscuro

{ti}