FALL 2011




Solidus Online

Jenelle D'Isidoro


The walls were barricaded with sunlight, save
for the corners where inhabited were the ever sharp
shadows, a dark army in collision with the afternoon blaze.
My face was bleached by the same source,
and I wore nothing but crumpled sheets, chapped lips
and the light that wrapped itself around me;
it was like some sort of Hopper piece,
a morning of casualties, a morning of
art and solar remedies.

I painted pictures on the ceiling above:
cave drawings, figures holding hands and even baby figures.
They darted across the canvas ceiling, dancing together.
And soon, color appeared, purples rich, and yellows lush
with a melancholy blue; they finally faded
and left a waxy mark, becoming a memory, a stain,
while leaving behind that forsaken blank canvas
even blanker than the darkness of my lids sealed shut.

I never wanted to move, I never wanted to explore
the sudden cold side of the bed, its existence is so improper.
And I knew why those girls in those pieces have a
mysterious frown; for one reason or another, they’re alone
in a room full of war,
a room where peace left no trace on the bleached walls,
the sunlight was warming instead of invasive.
And the shadows changed as the hours passed,
and I was struck with thought, stuck wanting to paint but never
wanting to finish a project ‘cause I’d have to watch it vanish
like the sun, consumed by shadows; the shadows won
and celebrated by filling every nook and cranny, places light
could never willingly reach.

I lived my life by windows, then.
I basked in the sun and bleached my face by day
staring endlessly at a white ceiling with figures I invented and danced with,
little creations of a mind at twilight; I was left on the bed with no
one there other than the ever shifting shadows,
all consuming, thought evoking provocative shapes
fighting dusk with the power of nightfall.


Jenelle D'Isidoro

is a student at Colby-Sawyer College.