I. (In the beginning there was the Word)
there
has not
been such a
breathless moment
not
such a
blush fluted
inflorescence
blood
coursing
cascading
nothing stronger
pulled
breathless
blinding flash
of creating
exploding into life
II. (standing on common ground)
have you ever
looked a baby in the foot
from profile and, not noticing
where the melanin begins
if it does at all?
gnarled walnut finger
traces image held in
tanned maple hands
Burnt Siena-cherry baby
teeters on pink soles
just like my baby
coos grandma
III. (Seek ye beauty where it may be found)
the thicket threatened
twisting viny imports from
bowels of a casual bird
what chokes worse,
sumac or shade grass?
blades and hatchets
merge with muscle
air infused with sunlight
whispers warmth across the crown
of rose of sharon
one bud unbows its head
chartreuse grey-veined sepals stretch
makes way for the blossom
IV. (To sleep, perchance to dream)
i've been here before
dim light glows pink off the live ones
dusty pigments pinken up the dead ones
they don't call them icicle roses for nothing
see how the pink gold threads
forming candles in the misty carpet
bare pink-gold candlelight
reflected warm yet wan
The color of birth
dimmed to pallor
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Published by Up the Staircase. May 1, 2010
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