A Dinner Table At Night
For the prompt at Magpie Tales. I couldn’t shake the impression of distance from my mind (he is looking in her direction, whilst she is looking into the distance) A Dinner Table at Night, 1884, John Singer Sargent There is silence here - There is fear, and the dense Stultifying pall of hurt- and of memories unresolved. I have been here before- On the cusp of this uncharted Sea, tottering on the edge Of this yawning chasm, willing Myself like a puppet on a string To not tip over, to not Be swallowed up in the flames Of the Sango death ritual; Like a mannequin sinks- Weighed down by a necklace Of milestones - into the depths Of a cold calm sea. Water drops glistening In the subtle shade of red lamps, Wine shimmering in the barely there light Cannot fade the gloom; And in her eyes as she looks away For one last time Is the cold detached lost-ness Of a tomorrow that will never be.