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    Upstairs / Downstairs: Making the Transition
    Upstairs / Downstairs: Making the Transition
    Upstairs / Downstairs: Making the Transition
    Ebook58 pages22 minutes

    Upstairs / Downstairs: Making the Transition

    By Andrew Ciofalo

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    About this ebook

    Her presence in his life was unexpectedshe a landlord, he a tenant; she a vibrant Russian-born scientist, he a journalism professor near retirement. He had come to Durham on a mission to save himself at the world-famous Duke Diet and Fitness Center. She was a brilliant neuroscientist breaking new ground in the labs at Duke on the link between short-term memory and schizophrenia. She was inaccessiblea demanding lab schedule, a deep commitment to her Orthodox faith, emotionally isolated by the untimely death of her fianc ten years previous. Her only escape was to lose herself in Russian literature, especially poetry. He sensed she cared when she emerged from her private reading nook upstairs, to spend more time reading on the adjacent couch, as he watched his nightly TV shows. He had much to say to her, and he intuitively knew that the best way to command her attention was to be as engaging as Pushkin. And so began the flow of poems until one day he jokingly asked her, If I write you one hundred poems, will you marry me? Her affirmative answer caught him off guard. Now all can share the language of courtship inspired by his muse.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTrafford Publishing
    Release dateJan 19, 2012
    ISBN9781466911529
    Upstairs / Downstairs: Making the Transition
    Author

    Andrew Ciofalo

    Prof. Ciofalo combines the sharp perceptions of the journalist with the lyrical expression of the poet, uniquely documenting a courtship that spans a cultural and generational divide. This book puts into practice his observations in an earlier article, “The Muse in the News” (AWP), linking poetry and journalism.

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    • 5/5
      In an age when words have been twittered into verbal grunts, a poet emerges who can reach across cultures and generations to capture a resistant heart. No one could have predicted that these two hearts would come together in a late blooming love story.

    Book preview

    Upstairs / Downstairs - Andrew Ciofalo

    Relationship

    Tenant. That is what she called him

    in her North Carolina kitchen—suddenly as cold as February.

    Money safely defined their transactional relationship leaving

    other possibilities to be discovered outside of meaning.

    Friend. That is what she called him when she sensed his

    expectations approaching heights she dared not climb.

    Eventually a warm front would make redundant their nightly

    vodka, and he would leave her house in early

    April. What will she call him then?

    A Time for Seeing

    He is gone now.

    Forever.

    Before then was the darkness,

    deeper than the night in which he walked

    along pathways hidden from God’s intent.

    He groped to an edge,

    a shadow of what was to come,

    a place where hope created light.

    And there she stood,

    more than a wish,

    more than a dream

    Without her there could be no light,

    and together their light could fill the world.

    This was Creation most sublime.

    Metaphorical messages in illuminated manuscripts

    give no more meaning to divine destiny

    than a life well-lived, a love infinitely formed.

    He accepted that someday he would depart,

    but she didn’t know it would be so soon,

    so unexpectedly, along bikeways marked by fate’s intent.

    In her memory, he became a distant star

    shining brightly without warmth,

    but with laser-like precision to excise

    the guilt of being left behind.

    Her light is still there,

    sometimes veiled in a cloud of Amens and chocolates,

    sometimes illuminating pages of Russian poetry,

    but always a beacon to those who idealize her.

    Let there be light.

    Siberia

    She stands on the far shore,

    a place of mystery and wonder,

    so cold and distant to me

    that I dare not cross over.

    From a promontory above the river

    a mischievous light

    sends her reflection

    gliding across the ripples toward me.

    I

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