She Paints with Dog-Haired Brushes

Because she tears off 

butterfly legs

and the antennae of 

the Katydids,

the flowers cannot 

be seen

even with the 

eyes closed

on the sweetest 

midday summer.

So, she paints with 

dog-haired brushes

for in her mind all things are 

actinomorphic.

They must be broken 

to be whole, 

to be pure

to be explained

to be beautiful...

The strawberry jellied 

aroma now

cuts and fills 

her nostrils.

Her adductor flexes 

draws them closer

an explosion 

of flowers, 

of lines, 

of color,

and lies.

That rope 

that has been tossed

is only enough to 

tie a noose

for her dreams are 

but a memory

and her salvation 

is now a sin.

November 02, 2005