Collard Greens, Hummingbirds, And Spider Silk

With my eyes lightly closed I see
a river of red circles flowing on black
from lower left to upper right. 

I clamp down harder;
that river stops its purposeful flow,
begins to swirl.

I try to see detail of those circles,
or of the black behind the river,
but there’s nothing more.

Press a finger to a lid
and the river lights up
as if I was viewing

a campfire’s light
from around a bend
before coming directly upon it.

What’s the point, you ask,
of trying to see
with your eyes closed,

but also of trying
to describe it well enough
so others can see it too?

I respond, one of these days
I may come around that bend
and see that fire.

Maybe it will be a cooking fire.
Maybe there will be roasted meat,
collard greens, people 

at rest around it, songs
like hummingbirds, skin
like spider silk. It would be

a good place to be,
a good place to end up,
but I’d hate to end up all alone there

so this is my way of leaving a trail
to that place you see
when your eyes are closed,

when a final finger
presses them

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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