Tuesday, 8. February 2011 21:00
the enso
"Window Blinds" by marlowe
the poem
You see these leaves at dusk, kissed
by the departing sun, glittering like flakes
of gold dust. Lattices
of snowflakes lay like antique lace,
a white crochet scarf adorning your jacket.
The cold may encase
your bones like ribbons of linen
wrapping a mummy but the sun
is an electric blanket, a friend
as warm as the clay
coffee mug you cradle. The dog’s woolly coat
separates into columns like a coral reef,
your hand a starfish.
Fence posts are the discard spears
of our wars, recycled.
You see the downtown skyscrapers flicker
like candles on a birthday cake, and you wish
for the full moon, a whole
peppermint pattie. You know
pine cones, artichokes, lotus flowers, and humans unfold
to find their inner beauty, to find relief.
Meanwhile, inside, the window blinds slant
like the ridges of a steel washboard, and the chandelier
crystals sparkle like sequins. When you are still,
you can hear the groans and creaks
of your soul. Like an overripe fruit, we teeter
on a balance beam, swinging between growth and rot,
light and dark. Our paths may fork
but the tree, with its multitude of branches, creates
so many starts and ends, showing us how
to hold possibility. These gold coins
jangling in your purse, these suns you hide
from the world, are your talents.
