Poem 147: Recipe for Painless Light.

2 figurines,1 vase of flowers,1 wall plate
1 fan light,1 chess board.
__________________

on the mantle peacefully don Quixote
does his balancing act
very wooden, very fragile, very sad still
looking for that wandering plain,
resolute in his silence, redeemed in his madness,
tilting to one side, he spins his wheels.

on the piano manfully, but half busted
Mozart smiles beneath marbled lids
at his own dismemberment, contained as he is
within his own interior echoes, he metronomes
the grandfathered clock with endless variations,
watching the pendulum swing, saying nothing
he plays for a time.

apart from this time, when there was time enough
to dwell with her in this room
where the morning light honeycombed her hair
a slow motioned fire above her alcove
of thought where she contemplates
the distance of their distance apart.

allowing her to create a space in which to set
a vase of perfect flowers, blazing in a canvas
of silhouetted sunlight opposite a wall
of complete blue shadow through which
a pair of wild geese heavy, oh so heavily
framed in a domestic plate
are forever flying to the far country
in search of painless light.

which can be found, to everyone’s amusement
above the front door where an interlude
of tall ships are fully blown and sailing off into
a sunset of stained glass, mirror themselves
in a red leathered chess board polished deep
with endless sleeves and waiting
without commentary for the next move,