by Heather Blakey
It was never that weird
she swears
Every morning she walked past the mural,
the painter gradually drew the woman out of the wall;
they weren’t creating her
the woman had always been there
the artist was just pulling away the veil
It felt violent to stop moving in the sea of bodies
but the girl couldn’t resist
arrested by the woman
gradually coming to life
Just one of her eyes was bigger than the girl’s hands, she realised
if the woman were to step out of the wall
she wouldn’t even be able to hold part of her
The thought made her shiver
and it wasn’t unpleasant
She knew that the woman
was looking right at her
she’d never been looked at like that
by concrete
When the mural was finished
she was just beginning
Every morning as she waited for the train
she looked at the woman
and was seen
The woman had waves of blue hair
she imagined they would blow in the wind
but the hair was solid as stone
It made the girl’s heart race
to watch the elements stopped in their tracks
just like she had been
she was sure she could feel the bristles of a brush
gliding along her skin
She started dressing differently
pulling some things tight and other things loose
how she knew it would feel to touch the concrete
and paint the feeling of her tiny lacy body
against the weight of the woman’s chest
She bought flowers
and would stand on the platform
eating the petals
The concrete woman liked that
especially when the girl smiled beneath her lashes
not caring about the bodies swirling around her
She visited at night
kneeling before her concrete woman
when the woman said she felt guilty
for only having the appearance of fingers
the girl giggled
and slid her hands under her own skirt
just keep talking to me
and the concrete woman did
her voice sounded like every woman and none of them at all
rough against the girl’s body
dauntless and beautiful
I love you
the girl whispered into the night
undone
They found them like that one night
the girl and her concrete woman
The girl pressed her lips against the woman’s chest, her hands into the wall
the concrete woman understood
and as they dragged the girl away she was laughing
they heard a sound that kept them awake at night
clutching onto their locks and crosses
it was like the concrete groaned, snapped, and shifted
like the sound concrete would make
if it could breathe
and the next morning
the concrete woman was gone
It was never that weird
she swears
you’re just afraid of what you can’t understand
