NaPoWriMo: Describing Abstraction Concretely

Beauty Always Pierces

 

Beauty always pierces through the breastbone

like an angel’s arrow angling down, gliding through tissue,

splicing spine.  I could die of pleasure, transported,

but where to go that’s better than this world, where every pebble,

puddle, path offers such exquisite

prospects for impalement? I understand

the girls and boys adorned with metal,

tiny hoops of shiny stainless steel strung

along an eyebrow or an ear,

silver buds at pleasure points – a feeling

more profound than matter made manifest in metal

as if that could be grasped or held.   Why clutch

when beauty permeates the air we breathe,

the mud in which we squeeze our toes, the garden soil

we crumble between fingers?  It’s not the welcoming

we try for.  No, no.  The keeping out, the pushing back

is what requires effort.  We fight so hard

for separation then complain of weariness,

of loneliness and hunger, thirst, pain, a litany of want

when bountylies around us–

a tree of golden leaves against blue sky,

a man’s strong forearm lightly furred, sun-lit

as he lifts a handle from its cradle in the bay beside you,

pumping gas one afternoon at a pit stop in Poughkeepsie.

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