So Much Empty Space

So Much Empty Space
By Karen Larsson

So much empty space
The blank page
So much potential

You approach the page timidly as if meeting a cherished lover, discretely. You’ve been forbidden to see one another: family, society, church. You are behind the wall pressing lips thru a hole. You can either look with an eye to admire your would be lover, or press your lips for sightless sensation—never both at once.

You want to stroke this page. Yet it seems forbidden. You feel sightless and intimidated and shy with desire.

The page ripples in waves like heat off the highway. Only you can see this. To others it appears still and flat. You see the continuous mocking movement and feel confused, ill. You want to press your hands firmly on the surface to quiet its constant change. You want to turn away in horror, but your eyes remain fixed.

Then forms appear: Apparitions white silhouetted just below the surface. A man flexing, a child hunched, an orgy of forms. Then you notice, in the corner, a woman in the fetal position and realize it is you. Vulnerable, you lie before the page in the most protected position known. And you grow backwards from a fully formed baby of the womb to a helpless zygote.

Get aggressive. Shake the page like a Polaroid hoping an image appears. Nothing.

So you sit and stare, defeated.

You think, I’ll tame the page with magic. With incantations I’ll conjure and force its destiny. Then you remember how elusive and slippery the right words are.

Look closely. Maybe you’ve missed something. Perhaps, just perhaps, there is more to this than glaring whiteness. You hold the page before you like a mirror. Only your own gross image mimicking each expression, each movement you make.

The phone rings or a tap on the door or the wind knocks a vase from the sill startling you. Disgusted you put the heathen sheet down to get the phone answer the door clean up the glass.

Then the slightest inkling rises to your mind. Something so sacred and so profane it makes you smile. A little surprised and very cautious you approach the page. You sneak up on it before it can react. You hover just above it, the pencil still and pointed and ready to strike.

So Much Empty Space

Creative Writing Lakota

Joined September 2008

  • Artist
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Artist's Description

Inspired by Margaret Atwood’s “The Page”

Artwork Comments

  • mYmEMine
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