A Poem a Day (502): Misted

 
NaPoWriMo 2022 was a fun month of writing, so for May I’m using the prompts from April 2021’s NaPoWriMo to write poems. For this one, I took the image from May 4, but I’m unable to paste it here. 
 
Day 4
 
In honour of the always-becoming nature of poetry, I challenge you today to select a photograph from the perpetually disconcerting @SpaceLiminalBot, and write a poem inspired by one of these odd, in-transition spaces. Will you pick the empty mall food court? The vending machine near the back entrance to the high school gym? The swimming pool at what seems to be M.C. Escher’s alpine retreat? No matter what neglected or eerie space you choose, I hope its oddness tugs at the place in your mind and heart where poems are made.

 

Misted

Misted light,
a heart of deep blue.
Cars skate in white lace,
strewn across the ground
like rice, sinking in sound.
Windows stare out blankly,
silent and solemn from angular
walls, waiting for a semblance of
light. But there is just this half-glow,
a slight wink, this partial serenade
to the beckoning night. All things
must close. The firefly lights in the
rooms flicker off, one by one, until
only the blue survives.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, May 5, 2022