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.
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