Smile When You Are Ready
Say anything, invent an excuse;
drag them out of the conversation pit,
haul their coats from the bed. Gather up
the unfinished wine glasses
and crushed napkins.
Trade my rhinestones for the lenses
of Spinoza, mecca of the eternal yes,
whose facets reflect the sweetest looks,
the most tender truths, the familiar
restored to proper strangeness.
The night is a shiny stone; standing close,
our toes try not to dream of climbing.
Is this Dali's sofa?
Then it must be your lips.
Tess Kincaid
April 2011
Posted over on her site Willow Manor
Listed as #2 over on Magpie Tales 61
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