POEM: twisted bound seat


twisted bound seat

I first saw her in a museum
she was on a pedestal
twisted into a knot
looking away from me
I tried to catch her eye
but she was a sculpture
not a painting, her eyes
would not follow me
I talk when I’m nervous
so I began to describe
the world outside her walls
the soft grass in front
of the museum, the trees
that shade the sidewalks
the smell of tulips the sound
of children laughing
every little while I’d steal
a glance in her direction
hoping for the slightest change
when I described music—
that was when I noticed
the tension leave her arm
a slight release of one leg
I told her about Nina Simone
John Coltrane Stevie Wonder
Bob Dylan Billy Bragg Aretha
until the names became a prayer
and she flowed like water off
the pedestal into my arms
as we left the museum together
she spoke for the first time
“sing to me” she said

24 June 2013
Auburn AL

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I’m writing a poem a day in 2013. During June, each day’s poem will be inspired by a photo of writer Arielle Brousse doing yoga. I’ve been a fan of her writing for years. Arielle writes the Unforgettable Detritus blog and curates The Sensible Nonsense Project, a collection of writing about people’s favorite childhood books. Thank you to Arielle for allowing me to use the photos, and for all the entertaining and inspiring writing she’s done over the years.

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