a lovely face covered with powder
and rose petals,
a cluster
of faces
cloaked in gray ash,
smooth as an oil slick.
skin covered with ink.
hair covered with feathers.
we are not burning,
we are not
burning,
we are
sitting near
a gap, a small chasm
staring mutely at each other.
there is something about this,
this beauty that aches,
that aches
but does not cry out.
This was written in response to this momentile.
6 responses so far ↓
Dave Bonta // April 23, 2009 at 2:01 pm |
I really like this.
pfanderson // April 24, 2009 at 2:27 am |
Thanks! Did you notice it was written as a duet with one of tinydoctor’s scissor dances?
Dave Bonta // April 24, 2009 at 2:40 am |
Of course.
doctoromed // April 24, 2009 at 3:14 am |
Giving your words to my image is really the ultimate complement from writer to artist, particularly when the poem is as fine as this one. Thank you.
pfanderson // April 24, 2009 at 3:20 am |
Truly, my pleasure.
I love the scissor dances — do please keep them coming.
Today is 12.19.16.13.7 1 Manik’ 5 Yax « Dr. Omed’s Tent Show Revival // October 5, 2009 at 11:23 am |
[...] in response to the very first scissor dance I posted as tinydancer; Anderson blogs her poetry at Rosefire Rising; she ’tiles excellent images [...]