Lyric Prose |

“Gothic Punctum”

Gothic Punctum

 

What’s the point? He was on the point of leaving when the oboist, unwinding her yellow scarf, strode in. A pointed effort to pervert the Rorschach. Children pointing at stars through bare branches. Now I will stand in the moon gate remembering my appointments: seamstress, cemetery, fortuneteller, well. You were told to bring three portraits, one for each point of a triangle. And still there’s a point in every memory where the footpath dissolves. Where water meanders toward a point on the teal carpet, like a melody. Like the pointillist rose tattooed on her sternum. At which point anything could happen: his heart exploding through a dormer window. From a production standpoint. Points in a leaf-swirl, points in a black-pupil stare. Your point being? I was appointed commander of a fleet of ghost ships creaking unseen in a dream. The point is to slide your hand beneath the skin. Follow the red moss to its vanishing point. Whereupon she shouted point-blank at her reflection. Counterpoint to midforest insects, divination of sheets on a new mattress. Our eyes fixed on the faintest point beyond the cloudscape.

Contributor
Jaydn DeWald

Jaydn DeWald is the author of The Rosebud Variations and Sheets of Sound, both via Broken Sleep Books, as well as several chapbooks including A Love Supreme, recipient of the 2019 Quarterly West Chapbook Prize. A third book, Common Tones in Haunted Time, is forthcoming from Antiphony Press in December 2026. They are Associate Professor of English and Director of Creative Writing at Piedmont University in Demorest, Georgia, and serve as managing editor for COMP: an interdisciplinary journal.

Posted in Lyric Prose

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