Friday, December 06, 2013

poem and painting2

Second Sight

Along gallery corridors
the murmuring never stops.
Ginevra against the junipers,
her hair still alive. Her sullen mouth
is saying something about resurrection
something we cannot hear.
We are cordoned off by velvet ropes
and centuries of loss while she,
irises turned inward, can no longer see
the damage that distance does.

(poem first appeared in Beltway Poetry Journal, painting in Red Fez)

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