cycles
she thought she could be beautiful if only
she could decide
what beauty was and was not
afraid of rabbit holes and conversation lulls
speak more candidly, sharpen your arrow tongue
maybe you’re afraid—so be it so be it
she knew she could decide beauty was
if only with a scrap of paper;
water & pigment
—oh—and a brush
but that would be hindering…
a meddlesome fall dries the colors to their leaves…
to paint them why cant they be everything at once
isn’t true beauty potential,
the potential to be everything at once
I want all the colors at once I once
knew a girl with an eye full of sun drops and cancer in her bones
cut her canvas with a house key and set
mixing the oils with her fingertips—
if only mixing was enough
like sex to beget the baby, forget the baby or the potential of a maybe
the acting graces are beauty enough keep going, don’t worry keep going.
I thought I could be beautiful by watching the sky
and tracking the hurricane negotiations from the shore
close enough to hear the thunder chuckle
opened my eyes to lightening and was blinded by
color—light was everything at once.
I tracked the stars in the sand with a walking stick
made their maps dance in the valleys of my footprints
told the truth of their location and nothing more
was that not beauty enough
is said of ideals and most are untrue
the tales of lions dancing in the heaven crest
all the rest is black, like the inner side of a resting eye
with the tide quieting the constellations
the sea is black with possibilities
it may be anything, at once.
—ECW
2 thoughts on “Poem 13 Revised”