Pelvis, Georgia O'Keeffe
There must be words to describe
these fractures in the frame of perfection.
You say, Fractures are not often
viewed in a beautiful light.
I say, Yes, but sometimes they are
just what we need.
Thinking back, I could’ve said, Sometimes, they are
just what I need…
To recognize and acknowledge that
perfect isn’t always desirable.
But, I didn’t say that.
And, I don’t want that moment back.
The words curve
like the sensuous lines
of a body at ease. I see them
for what they are. Words.
Then. I see them
as a body at ease. Limbs flowing
like ripples of sand that harden
when the tide sinks. The insolent arches.
The mottled pits. A transfiguration.
Real, or imagined?
Futile, this question!
We see what we choose to see.
We sit together and shoot stones at the stars.
Things could be worse, I suppose—the stars
could be shooting stones at us.
The sea gathers itself like a smock of intricate pleats.
The light dissipates like a raging mirage.
We cannot change this.
We will not change this.
I will not...
I will not change the flow of geography.
I will not break the order of the water.
I will not alter the falling shadows’ rest.
I will not stay the voice’s expression.
I lean into the collapsing day
and moan—my body embracing the dark.
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