The Sound of Blue

We live our lives to find out

The End.

How many of us, if given our own biographies,

would skip ahead to the final pages?

And she died of a broken heart.

Or perhaps

…a surfeit of cherries.

Yet there is nothing so terrifying

as a life unwitnessed or

unread.

We need readers.

We need good reviews.

We are desperate

for the smile that comes

with lipstick

ballet flats

and the sterile smell of Chanel No 5.

 

What did I think it would bring,

this year in England?

I stand on nighttime bridges

and fill my mind

with undergraduates tripping

down cobblestone streets

as the moon undresses

the sky

twilit birds

the sound of blue.

 

Willows dragging their fingers in the Cam

Cathedrals spreading their silk-wing fans

 

–all the while knowing I must

Take it in

Take it all

Take the birds and

the glass and

the candles and

the mist and

make it a mirror to

beauty and truth.

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