The painting inspired by a poem or vice versa
Acrylic, Leaf, Map, on Canvas
The Writer's Center 2015
If there is a map to get here, it’s buried
under layers of paint and skitter, a bouquet
of wary and doubt. A girlhood of scars married
to skin. All my life I’ve been bracing for someday:
gear up, set out, gaze locked on the horizon, lost
in the rush of promise above the trees. A silver ring
holds worlds of warm turquoise, woozy and star-crossed.
I’ve been watching the signs. I’ve tried everything
else. There’s a dumb moment when you spot birds
of prey and it’s some kind of magical sign. I rehearse
the story of our romance through internet passwords—
an indigo oasis in the metal grin of commerce.
A talisman to cleave to, a forecast to ignore.
Fires are messaging from the opposite shore.