Splash by Eve West
cover
photo by the author
2002, 28 pages
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Sublime Need
Color
is reflection of light not absorbed. Lime
is everything
but, and tangerine’s orange rind
is the
estrangement of that very shade. Lately,
I wonder
at the things not said. The weight we
choose
to carry on, when there is no clear sign
and emotion
bounces back off topic. I’m
not sure
where the light goes then. In line?
In scattered
fragments? Pieces of the prism beam?
Color
is reflection.
If I can’t
adjust my angle of perception in time,
I may
miss your meaning, or at least the more sublime
need you
express between words. A theme
of longing
for something I will never absorb seems
to be
in question. How to hold and
define
the pigment
of love when color is reflection?
Wild
Perfume
Ripples
form the flesh of wood.
Petals
form the rose’s wings.
Rivers
form so many things.
Kisses
tease the softest guilt.
Shadows
test the truest noon.
Beaches
wait to swallow the moon.
Ripples
of wood.
Petals
of wings.
Rivers
hurry so many things.
To barren
silt,
To wilt
too soon,
This wood,
this wing,
This wild
perfume.