A True Moment, Eli Holley


Study for ‘Terrarium,’ 19X25, John Brosio

 

A True Moment

Sometimes
mothers run over their sons
by accident, and there’s nothing you can do
but say you’re sorry, and how sorry, or glance at a sky every now
and again or take a walk through a city.  Swim in the ocean.
Compose a poem using dust and light.
Walk in and out of a room
through a door.

A place where milk is plentiful.
The color is of bone.
When left undrank, it goes.

Where teeth, razored on wind,
seep easy into flesh.  As deep
as necessary.  Turning.

A place opulent with yes.  Extravagant with no.
Needy and capable and eyes.  From nowhere.
Where misunderstandings occur daily,
nightly we go.

The magnolia tree blooms before me and is real;
blooms slow, petals shaped as purple-white coquina shells;
tips browned by rain and oxygen.

Soon I’ll find them.
Gone.  Dispersed into everything;
Your daughter’s hair.  Someone’s laughter.

A true moment, perhaps, of understanding, of
acceptance of the temporal, even if temporal.
Our love and fear of the possible.
Our solitude.
______________
Eli Holley

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