Mystery Woman

She sits in a darkened corner 
eyes piercing through the rising ribbon 
of smoke from the untouched cigarette 
she holds casually in her hand.

The sultry sound of saxophone
drifts across the dimly lit room
through air that hangs like a blue haze
around the lights on the stage.

No one has even noticed she’s there
except the waitress she turned away
and the bartender who keeps an eye
on her still full glass as the night grows long. 

As the music moans a bluesy tune
she lets herself melt into the darkness,
listening to the drone of wordless murmurs
filtering through the smoke.

She crushes her cigarette without a glance
pushes aside the glass and stands,
casting one last wistful look 
over her shoulder before she leaves

Like a lost and lonely wayward soul
on the outside looking in,
trying to find some long forgotten memory
by sifting through the past. 

The barkeep pauses, rag in hand and watches 
her retreating back as she disappears 
leaving nothing to show for her departure
except the soft click of the door.

And when she’s gone he straightens, 
but still stares into the dark and wonders
if she were merely an illusion,
painted on the shadows by his mind. 




march 2005
Janet Reid



Awarded by Poetic Constellations