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"Mind Rest Metaphors"

July 25, 2006

“Mind Rest Metaphors”

The aesthetics of beauty
Confound me
And according to an old man
Are worth tipping for:
Quarters in a cup,
On his half of the table
I work for.

My mind rests
On a sink carpeted
By floating tomato heads
And the red, red, red
That begs a picture, bobbing,
In a frame of stainless steel.

And my mind rests
With the sleeping
Girl-child, the firstborn,
Tuesday, love-of-our-life,
Black-haired treasure.
My parents crept in
Every night, several times
Sliding a finger beneath my
Nose, holding their own
Breath to check for mine.
Is she sleeping?
Is it death?
In fear, (or is it love?)
The stillness
Always feels threatening.

My mind rests
On a Great Exhibition
In a London I will never know
For I am not my grandmother’s
Grandmother, after all.
I can see the glass
Hall, framing sky,
Probably grey and rainy,
In keeping with the city way.
Amongst the dials and dapper suits
There would have been a carriage
Pulled by kites.
And the marvel
Of a metaphor (so well suited
For dreams!)
Visits me, amidst my mind-rest.

And I find that beauty
(Upon which the mind rests)
Is floating tomatoes,
Is a girl-child,
Is a carriage
Drawn by kites.

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