|
Ardor
What can I give you for coming here?
It is unnecessary to turn out my pockets to see
I do not have much, only surface and not
the kind you can touch and take
comfort from. No smooth, or warm,
rough or cold from which to derive a sense of
certainty. It is more like the surface of
water. A reflection you know to be false
even when accurate enough to sustain a moment.
It is only the mirror, angled to reveal
the back of your neck, reflected in
yet another reflection. Maybe this is
the only way to glimpse all of you.
As with water,
your mind comprehends the water's surface,
by which I mean, you see your face and mistake
it-you accept you are there in the water.
And because of this, believe, you are part of the
illusion. This smoke and shadow
though deceptive, is all I have for you. If you
came here, you came wanting. If you
came here and found me waiting,
it signifies I am wanting too.
I understand this about you. And I suppose
that is why I see your reflection in the water bowl,
see your face framed in the wooden ladle I offer
with both hands.
I want to give you more-
If I can give you what you have come for,
I will understand why I remain here, cradling water.
Kory M. Shrum's recent work has appeared or is forthcoming in North American Review, The Pedestal Magazine, Zone 3, Phoebe
and elsewhere. She resides in Michigan with her pug as she happily serves New Issues Poetry and Prose press.
Email: Kory M. Shrum
Return to Table of Contents
|