Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Pleases Me Much

Sculpt. Shape. Carve. Dress. Paint.

Pleases me, it does, to mold into an image
That defies slump and wrinkle,
As if an old man who after 65 years didn’t have the courage
Or confidence to speak his mind
Finally got up from the kitchen table and told his wife
He wanted to quit his job and be a sculptor.

Pleases me it does to sober the frame into something challenging,
The curve of the back sure,
Legs attached to feet
Which balance and flirt in high heels.

This invention pleases me much,
As any whimsical touch
Be it a brush,
Or the feel of a woman’s suck,
Or a delicate wine and steak high
Or echoing starry trumpet notes of children running round.

1 comment:

  1. > notes of children running round

    I think that the sound of children laughing is one of the most beautiful sounds in the world.

    Nice poem, BTW.