I wanted to write a gentle poem:
One where pens drop as if into cloud
One where kitchen chairs only kiss the floor
One where roses lift their heads once more to jangle tears of joy by sunset.
My keyboard fingers raced for:
The blurred rainbow sheening a dolphin’s head
The white hat of the woman with her back turned looking over the railing
The sea in the painting rolling in a soft knowing no death is coming.
I ravaged to type further:
Grandpa watching red-caped girl rolling down a sun-spiced hill
Velvet evening trembling fingers of violets on the white lattice
Curling ever slower round about the truth by starlight.
I only wanted a simple poem:
One nipped by blue fairy wrens giggling on a spring sneeze
One winked by diamond snowfall fluttering outside the window
One inside the other, eyelashes fluttering like snow
against the face, the kiss, the fire’s crackle.
I had to pull the curtain
I had to leave the peace to them
I had to drop the pen and shut myself outside
The snow-blank page.
Image credits in order of appearance:
“‘Gruta Azul, 1898.” By João Batista da Costa – Isabella Matheus – Google Art Project, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10756523
“Ventania (Wind storm), 1888.” By Antônio Parreiras – Google Art Project, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4162426