Spirit

By | 11 May 2026

After Georgia O’Keeffe

She traces the outline of clouds,
sword edge, former leaf in a twig.
It isn’t absence; the body needs
to be extracted for the pattern
to appear, so that the lining
will shimmer. She scowls
at the complete moon, waves
pushing onto the shore, moves
a hand into the hollow of a vase.
Water, she figures, is the shape
that forms it, is the cup aspiring
in the hand. This way, glasses
are always full. And all presence
is but wind passing through.
Why must the heart be exposed
and bleeding? She sets out
to draw the voice from behind
the mountain, certain she’ll succeed.

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