Shadow (By Catherine Matchuk)
White wall, white paint,
it peels off with time.
Make a stage for the shadow puppets.
People, human, pumping blood,
not them, merely shadows.
Give a sense of almost living.
A kiss, a touch,
not with the flesh, but shapes.
Show a story of lovers printed on the wall.
Combine, shapes mounting,
no heat, nor noise, nor movement to shake the air.
A fantasy made only in shadows.
Dusty air, rays of light,
no body is touched.
I am not wanted, not sought after by you.
White wall, white paint,
yellowed now by time.
It marks an unloving silhouette, forever still.
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