Poem | 'Paris, 2011' by Melineh Yemenidjian

Paris, 2011

loneliness sat       next to me

                    silently

 at the

      used book cafe

                   in le marais-
                                we shared a whole quiche

                      and stared at a man

              wearing a scarf

         in summer

writing a script

he walked with me as we passed

              picasso’s mural

                            and one dead fish

                                              on the sidewalk

then imagined to find

                   my truth from

mona lisa’s mystical mouth-

}but he/r eyes bred

     ,contempt

at this eager tourist{

indulged love-

                     idled

                            hoping

to the tune of his sad violin

on pont de arcs

     (above the seine

                  where sweethearts left

locks of devotion)

in the bohemian house

scented with              past courtesans

       -sought the              trademarked beauty

that i could not find in myself

in the lithe         undulations

    of showgirls at the moulin

rouge

           for he had erased all the makeup

 from my face

freedom seemed confined

[overwhelmed, I let go

            of his hand-

           jostled by the crowd]

                                          swarming;towards

the arc de triomphe

i dined in invalides

  (she replaced he)                                      

                         And Paris

                                   winked at me
                                                through light
                                                       shining in my glass,

                                                    in front of that                                 

                                      sparkling tower
                     and tousled my hair

               with the wind
 

she took my hand,     led me

                                            down

              to le procope

                   on rue de l'ancienne comédie,

we spent hours writing- 

                                     sipping espresso

          with franklin and hemingway

        -danced

                    on st. germain during a

happenchance

                       concert

         where the streetlights

bathed us

                 in an orange glow

  drank wine-   straight

from the bottle

                     from

      nicholas,

                 billowed

like      twirling           

                     dresses

to the apartment,

         curled up,

 fell asleep]

finally, on my way

                            home

in a taxi-

                  édith piaf’s

                               urgent voice

lilting,

                          i saw our

                      adventure

through the window-

                     a film-reel;

felt her arms around me

                        and departed

                                no longer forlorn

Read Yemenidjian's “Equ-I-pose,” “Lady Libertine,” “How to trap a butterfly,” and “Religion at Armenian school.”