Do you see my soft charcoal lines?
I was a stamp of ink, a fencepost letterbox,
I was territory - a blot on the landscape -
a shield mirror, a moat digger,
a straight line standing in a circle of steel.
I was iron, nickel, a face on a coin.
Do you see my soft charcoal lines?
I was mercury;
fluid, slippery
and untouchable;
I was encased;
measured and measuring.
Do you see my warm charcoal lines?
I was soft as silver in the moonlight
with the one I love,
I was her malleable gold.
Do you see me?
I am light, shade, a smudge...
I want your finger to trace
the vanishing outline you have made me.
Do you see?
For I am soft -
flesh me out
and I am yours...
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Comments
nandinidhar | December 10, 2007 - 19:19
I like this piece a lot--especially the first paragraph...
Ssor | March 2, 2008 - 22:30
So delicate, so beautiful. I would be tempted to chop the 'me' off this line:
the vanishing outline you have made me.
I think it's understood in the context and more perfect without it.