Saturday, February 19, 2011

Look at Me


She stood near the music
both to hear and to see—
after all, Orpheus speaks
to ear and eye.
Harlem River rushed
along the ground beneath
her tapping feet.
Suddenly she turned
and heard, saw
a gravity of souls,
the familiar magnetic pull
of blue-green iris
to blue-green iris—
melding like Monet’s blossoms.
The reunion was pleasantly
shocking, surreal.
She ran her fingers
across the beauty that
was this coming together—
this parting—
then sent it soaring
with a black kiss.
It sailed above the crowd
and exploded into
blues and confetti.
Perhaps in the end
all that remains is the
music.

~Susan Adams Kauffman