Vertigo

Glass Sculpture by Robert Buick

Vertigo

The heart is
blind but spinning, like a jewel
transparent in darkness.
If there were light,
igniting colors…
but even in the blind black
colors wait for a chance to break
out of the holding stone

Their sleeping presence spins and
turns inside each facet,
seeds within a pod rusting in the wind,
germ within the seed that soon will know
quickness in the green;
only give light
to what already exists.
Only give the meaning to the form.

But I don’t think
this is a thing that you can do.
You don’t know which the gem, which the jeweler
which the instrument, or
what of me is determined by your incessant tapping
and what by the temper of the stone.

You think I’m soft metal, an abradable plate
blank before you etch it with the acid of your desire,
scratched by the stylus that swings between your legs
to give back in my life the imprint of your will.
But I am diamond hard,
and it’s hard to shape what spins in darkness,

and hard to see what’s carved
in the fretwork of scars upon the holding stone;
wind in the dead leaves dancing
a horn of honey poured into the sea
a network of veins full flushed with color
that waits for light to be given
to what already exists.


Joyann Jones

aka: Hedgewitch

Posted over on her site Verse Escape
Listed as #17 over on Magpie Tales 53