Henri Comes Late.

Henri comes late.
You sit and wait.

The day unfolds
like an unknown map.

The ghosts of Paris
parade the streets,

but no sign of Henri
or sound of his key

in the lock. You hope
he will bring his camera

to capture you as he said.
The morning chills

your naked flesh
bringing goose bumps

upon your tainted skin.
Be my model Henri

suggested, be the one
to bring me my fame.

You posed and posed,
sat and stood, reclined

and lay, let him have
you as he wished for

black and white photographs
and sometimes his bed.

Maybe he is frequenting
the cafes with his artist

friends, or drinking wine
with some other girl,

promising her the same
as you, selecting poses,

suggesting dates and times,
and suggestive poses.

Henri is late. The dull tick tock
of the room’s old clock.

Comments: 10

Angela M. Sep 29, 2011, 6:31am UTC

Very nicely written, thank you for sharing this with us.

Terry Collett Sep 29, 2011, 6:32am UTC

Thank you, Angela.

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DIANE D. Sep 29, 2011, 8:32am UTC

Great write.

Terry Collett Sep 29, 2011, 9:48am UTC

Thank you. Diane.

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Bernard C. Sep 29, 2011, 8:49am UTC

Quite the scene maker in so much as a photographers boudoir - nicely put :-)

Thanks for submitting to
The Surreal Circus.

Terry Collett Sep 29, 2011, 9:48am UTC

Thank you, Bernard.

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Angela A. Sep 29, 2011, 12:50pm UTC

Not good for him to be late

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Terry Collett Sep 29, 2011, 2:58pm UTC

Thank you, Angela

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stephen berwaldt Sep 30, 2011, 11:02pm UTC

Ah...those artist types...so flattering...so fickle...so flighty...
I loved this tale...wonderful relating of the woman that waits...

Thank you submitting to the Gatherâ€™s Best Writers and Artists.

Terry Collett Oct 1, 2011, 2:26am UTC

Thank you, Stephen.

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Henri Comes Late.

4 people recommend this post

Comments: 10

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