Dark Abstraction, Georgia O'Keeffe
I will hold this moment
as though it were a visitation
from angels fallen
out of the heavens—fallen
into grace—and crying
in noiseless symphony.
Here is my open body.
Here is my uncut hair.
Here is the drunken spiral
of metamorphosis.
Here is the ritual incense
of salvation.
Here…
do not weep
Here…
the crimson tulip.
And here…
the dried up wounds,
faceted with oxidation.
do not wax indignant
Here…
an ingress.
And here…
a perforation
in the perfection
of empty platitudes.
understand
And here, too…
prayer—seated in quietude
upon my ribs—waiting for the
lamps of the sky to be illuminated.
* Words in italics from Baruch Spinoza
