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write for the Counsellors Café Mag

POEM: After the conference





So I asked her how she got that scar on her chin… She blushed then answered… My mind had already raced ahead and targeted the place and, Time the incident had occurred, and then



I noticed it in a work group, work shop, work thing, at a Conference just off Oxford Street It wasn’t big. Just a Thin line. A divot of definition. Running off centre off Of the chin to just below the bottom lip.



I had wondered how it came to be there, this scar. Imagining a cat fight in poor light, searching to take aim, Then fire. The line was construed as if a ruler and Knife or other sharp object had come together to divide. It must have bled.



Trying not to stare. It didn’t stand out much. No more So than her brown shoulder length hair, or rich brown Eyes. Framed in blue white sclera’s. Her pupils were Large as she interacted with the group. Graceful arm Sweeps as she elucidated her points



Imagining blood, seeping from the cut, slowly, loosely Dripping, freely and with that free hand wiping gracefully Wiping away the wound marked in red.



Ashamed? I could guess not. Aghast probably – unlike The expected monthly. This red was of Pain not birth but Death. I continued to stare. Aware of the mesmerising Allure of this faint forgotten sliced vein.



She turned her head and I could tell it was only skin Deep. Near fainted as she caught me. Gazing. Intimately At her chin, out of the corner of her eyes. I shamefacedly Averted my gaze – towards the mint green carpeted floor. Resumed idle talk with a neighbour. Then turned to the Door. As if expectant of a SURPRISE visitor.



The mark still called (Michael) my eyes back to That point on her face, just above her chin and Just below her bottom lip.



Only this time gazing through her noticing Everything and her chin, the brown cords jacket, The black blue jeans, the dark toe scuffed ankle Boot shoe things. Sitting cross legged – Right over Left.



But above all, the mark, skin deep, kept calling, And again my eyes went back to wandering



…”I had fallen through a plate of glass” she said And re-enacted the scene, whilst sitting, then


Blushed

I chose that moment to gush an apology then Said “Excuse me” and left the scene. She Leaning on her right knee… Holding her chin.



Wondering…




By Michael Opoku-Forfieh, 2014


#WorldPoetryDay2021

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