Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Martina's Sonata: for Blueblack




The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton






Your skin is braided thin with parchment -
delicate with lace, bearing threads of ink
woven in intricate patterns, its effervescent hues defiant,
stained with rebellion aimed at mere chiaroscuro shades of existence,
kaleidoscopic bursts against the night sky.

Where we came from, where we are going now,
deftness of color means more than sound,
is far more significant than taste or feeling abstractions 
along these blunted edges of canvas.

The artistry of a glassblower 
will singe his thorough fingers,
leave their lustrous wounds
upon carved ridges of his soul.

You know this
as well as you suspect
the weeping curvature beneath your bones;

still, 
you won't surrender.