It’s as if a painter started with eyes

chaikoan:

It’s as if a painter started with eyes,
the lines along a rim and irises aglow,
to determine how the rest of the face
fell onto the canvas or scrap that follow
from brush to palette mixing the shades
and hues in a fine gloss on flat surface.

Then like life, by some jump, fingertips
scratched into focus, fondling or feelings,
then an ear comes round in sympathy
for the difficulties life presents
swooping down the chin as if the eyes
realize it will all come together.

Finally, the lips so mute until now,
and poised for tomorrow’s feeling
of a bus stop when the headlights
come into sight, or the train pulling in,
or pacing airport halls with everyone else
tight-lipped, looking toward the sky.

And with the mouth comes the nose
and that bridge that makes a body
feel lighter, the entry so sweet
that lifted feel at the beginning
rises, arising in expectation
and the flight—over it.

LynnChakoian
December 24, 2011

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