dimanche 20 juin 2010

I. dreaming graces

Picasso's The Three Graces

the three graces are waking me up
i am touched, molded, kissed
by their dextrous fingers
my eyes, hands and feet are washed
my energy enfolded in broadcloth
pleated from left to right
and then firmly tucked at my waist
the thick pallu thrown at my shoulder

i approach a mirror descended
from the summit of mount olympus
i am not the same woman, invaded by
such joie de vivre, la fête et la splendour
that i have grown a third body
in the center of my breast, ruby-like
whose facets reflect infinite rivulets
in whose mouth flows oceans

the water bears infinite stars that
live and die in a song, a creation story
about a ravaged girl left to die
until small birds found her and
carried her heavy body across the wire
with virgil by her side she descended
the nine levels of hell and then sleeping
she opened the seven gates of heaven

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