Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

A parrot, a toucan,
a horse’s head,
and a girl in red shoes
follow a manikin
walking like an Egyptian
into the room
where I used to dream.
None of them speak.
They just rearrange
the brushes on the table
and wait for me to notice
what I left undone.

The Virgin of Guadalupe
smiles at their shenanigans—
a parrot on her shoulder now,
the manikin offering
a rainbow shoelace,
like a ribbon of penance.
Her mandorla ripples—
not with judgment
but something warmer,
forgiveness braided with laughter.
She doesn’t speak,
but the shoelace glows
in her open hands.

Then the toucan sneezes
and vanishes in glitter.
The girl curtsies to the Virgin.
The horse’s head rolls
against the leg of my easel,
and comes to rest
facing me.
I still don’t know
what any of it means—
only that I’m reaching
for vermilion, maybe.

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