Thursday, April 4, 2013

The Clothesline, by Jamal Ali

The gentle wind soothed the young widow’s loneliness on that bright summer’s day,
in June 2010, the day of her tenth wedding anniversary, in the backyard of her hilltop home. From her perch, while hanging her wash on the clothesline, Yolanta marvelled at the view of the Atlantic. She reminisced about her sailor husband, Alistair, who never returned from that fateful voyage. Alistair and his crew, on their
journey from the Halifax Harbour to San Juan, Puerto Rico, in that summer of yesteryear were never heard from or found, Lucifer in The Devil’s Triangle claimed them. Yolanta reflected on Alistair’s parting words on that morning while embracing and caressing him, “Our love, precious as the sun and moon will forever be in the music of memory, the living oceans and seas.”

The tender touch of her lacy bras and silky panties reminded Yolanta of the nights of lovemaking in these sexy underthings. She whispered, “I surely miss those carnal nights of splendour with my prince under satin sheets” and wondered, would it ever
happen again?

While looking at the celestial sphere and the ocean, Yolanta whispered with a tear, “Oh Aphrodite and Amphitrite, please, please, bring back my Alistair to me. Please, rescue him from Lucifer’s arms, ‘cause he’s my true love.” As she hummed the lyrics to Petula Clark’s song, “Sailor,” tears flowed down Yolanta’s cheeks; she planted her right hand firmly on her chest to the words:

                       To the harbour of my heart
                        I will send my love to guide you
                        As I call across the sea
                        Come home to me

She hummed favourite love tunes that the couple sang to each other, in their past lives of marital bliss. Yolanta’s secret admirer looks through his dining room window, focusing on the tall, slender brunette and the fluttering lingerie.

Jamal Ali

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