barbara turney wieland

Barbara Turney Wieland BTW is an Australian artist/painter who always described herself as a “frustrated writer who paints instead”. Last year, she finally found the courage to start painting with the words that have been flying around in her head for years. Artistically satisfied, she lives and works in Switzerland with her family and can now say she is published, by the Mulberry Fork Review. She is currently gathering work for her first book of poems

A Prose Poem

By Barbara Turney Wieland

 

I became aware of Ariana’s hand in mine. It was so small as to almost not be present at all and quivered, slightly moist. I was afraid to squeeze it too tight in case it broke.

We sat apart, our eyes drifting elsewhere. Our shoulders snubbed each other subtly. Our feet shuffled a bit, pointing in opposite directions.

Slowly, sweetly, she gave up her hand to me. And every movement started a sonnet in my heart. Her unspoken words caressed the skin of my palm like a poem. Warmth from her tingling fingers freed all my secrets up to her and volumes of my soul opened out into all those little spaces between out fingers.

It was the bead-eyed stare of that old woman over there that that broke our charm. She was aware of what was afoot, it seemed. She smiled knowingly at Ariana, at me, at us. The skin around her mouth and eyes wrinkled like steel.

Ariana discreetly removed her hand from mine, leaving an echo and an empty space.