Jeffrey Hull

Office Man

Bright dust motes float, held fast in beams
   Of slatted light; as fades the day
There sits a man of no extremes,
   A proper man — in every way.
But in the twilight, lazy dreams:
   Behind cool eyes, the secrets play ...
The curve of neck, the stocking seams:
   The lissome girl he saw today —

Soft bend of waist, the hair backlit;
   A breeze caressed her summer dress,
And God! he rose to let her sit —
   She did not see his thoughtfulness,
But swirled around headlong, to flit
   From tram to street, a cheekiness
Which suited more, he would admit;
   The heart expects its hopelessness.


© 2005 Jeffrey Hull

Nice! Good atmosphere -- subtle glints of social detail -- as well as psychology. The detail of stocking seams is terrific -- it places the scene in the past, and then the word "tram" does too. So it's a poem about memory even more deeply than it first deems. But then it's also about anticipation, in the terrific last line, "The heart expects it hopelessness."

Thank you, Richard. Your comments are always deeply appreciated.