Earnestly, Ernest

Papa ... Why build your walls so thick? Did you fear the world would tumble in on you - Find you as vulnerable and discomposed as the rest of us? I think your TRUE battles - your wars - took place within An Id so ambiguous and at odds with itself That you drowned it in substance and sin and mortality The edge of a knife too jagged for shrewd application Visceral impulse, your fine compass Those paths and bearings felt the prow of your words Perchance the movable feast was NOT Paris But rather the light in you - Paris as you lived it, in the rain You and she, shining, in tremulous unison Tapping keys with the lethality of your favorite rifle The point of your pen invasive as any needle, poisoned Ravaged and gored by the demons of night Yet passed untouched by the bulls of Pamplona Your world was raw on the half-shell You, with Tabasco and a paring knife Beauty found in muddy fields and mustard gas As deep and compelling as a Caribbean sunrise More taken by the grainy texture of a pear on your palate Than by all the gods of humankind And THAT, that easy allure - That sublime simplicity ... Is why ... I love you. Written and submitted on November 24, 2019 For the "Your Favorite Artist" Poetry Contest Chantelle Anne Cooke, Sponsor.