Prick of the Spindle: Poetry: Ang: A Kind of Pompeii

Marcia comes every Thursday. 4PM sharp. She wears badly pressed slacks and a kimono-type jacket, but no necklace. Out of habit, I don't invite her to recline on the sofa. She is self-sufficient, like a homing pigeon or envelope with postage and return address. The afternoon sun through the blinds gives her the edge of a striped animal. She talks, I doodle. The squares I draw during each session remain the same. She dreams in cave art, stick figures and even these have varied little over the years. The sizes of the men are roughly three inches high; when they move, their feet leave bite marks on the wall. She is never afraid or depicted with hair. They are always in the wild with a spear in both hands. In these instances, she says, I believe I'm a man who believes he is a shadow that would evolve into an active volcano. The extinction of her species is not completely evident. Until she crosses her legs.

Arlene Ang is the author of The Desecration of Doves (2005), Secret Love Poems (Rubicon Press, 2007) and Bundles of Letters Including A, V and Epsilon (Texture Press, 2008), co-written with Valerie Fox. She lives in Spinea, Italy where she serves as a poetry editor for The Pedestal Magazine and Press 1. More of her writing may be viewed at www.leafscape.org.