–a poem based on a painting
Because it is stitched on my face,
that is the reason I am still smiling.
Somewhere there are lilies blooming.
Somewhere the sacred chambers of nautilus.
Somewhere there are lullabies.
But here? How did the calendar
get cut into strips? Even Monday
and Tuesday have gotten a divorce.
The writing’s on the wall, but no one
can read it, they’re too busy shouting.
What is it they’re trying to say? All
of them making their mouths bigger,
as if that is the secret to being right.
I am grateful these big floppy ears can’t hear.
If my eyes were not yarn, I would cry.