Her bright face is emblematic of a queen of heaven
Done by some Italian master years ago and in museums,
Yet she's working here, in the terminal, where we work,
Until the time her legs lay bare, her child falls, Spring comes,
We give her gifts and coo over the squiggling infant.
It's all about birth, it's all about wanting to arrive and not leave.
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I like this very much. Your words compliment the image beautifully.
ReplyDeleteZoux',
ReplyDeleteThank you. I liked it too, and it came out relatively with ease. Some are brutal struggles.
Came out within an hour of returning from picking up coffee and being struck with a 40-year-old (!) memory of a woman I knew only tangentially at the Post Office when I worked at a facility in Los Angeles.
She was pregnant. She had gorgeous complexion.
The poem came from that image.
TFool
Isn't is lovely how some radiate an aura like queens of heaven? Beautiful little piece. A joy to read.
ReplyDeleteW/T,
ReplyDeleteYou must know how lucky we feel when the 'right' words seem to come out with ease.
How much luckier to have been in her presence. I mean, it wasn't 'sexual'; it was a kind of awe.
TFool