for Michelle Renee
Once bold-faced, powerful in controlling
energy, their stark spines melt like seared frowns
as they fall deep into sun, its boiling
yellows, scorched browns surrounding mind’s splotched gowns
of ash and blood. All dissolve in honest
fire as they come here, go away. How night
softly weaves room for forgiveness, our best
artists and instincts might say. Our far sight
can only sense what memory recalls:
curved self-portraits of someone else, perhaps.
Perhaps chalked frames of indifference. All
give way for brief seconds to loud green map
for surviving: banality. What free
gifts save us? You say grace and dignity.
Roger Armbrust
September 20,
2013
