Adam Fieled (Plymouth Meeting, Pennsylvania, USA): "Unhinged"

Because you could cut paper with Anastasia’s cheek-bones,
& her wide hips supported no flab at all, & not to say
her carriage announced any movements but a feline strut,
a surfeit of attention is what she was used to. She paced
the polished wooden Highwire floors, knocked
back red wine, huffed nitrous, & put up the requisite
inaccessible, impervious front to those foolhardy enough
to believe they could approach her. I, for instance,
knew the ropes, & had too much to do anyway. Except,
at some point in one fateful night’s festivities, all the junk
in Anastasia’s brain, everything frozen, lazy-loafing,
shy of approach, froze— nights spent following other people
around, waiting to be signaled, signals sent back registering
ranking, surfeits of attention delivering not love but lust—

caught up with her at last, & she exploded. Gaetan
was exasperated to find her sitting in one of the windows
of the gallery’s west-facing façade, threatening to jump.
Gaetan was a cool customer, but spur him with something
unhinged, he would warp into warrior mode, brusquely
brush off those inexpert, & set to work. We all watched
as Gaetan leveled with Anastasia, whose drunkenness
was not helping her, leading her to understand that
the situation was hardly hopeless. She had a real life,
friends, purpose, & everyone here cared about her.
The party, as an entirety, you would think ceased, yet
it did not. Not all the revelers realized the drama unfolding.
Even those who did drunkenly chose to trust Gaetan. I
did, too, was right to. Philly fixed Jersey that night, as was its wont.

© Adam Fieled 2024-2025