the novels she's written
in letters,
symbols,
mathematic equations.
She begins composing
everyday by
a half past eight.
The tip of her
blue Bic
gliding
carving
punctuating
the space between
the top of her knee
and the sun.
Ritual and warm-up.
She removes a black and white
Composition notebook
from her cart.
It's wrapped in plastic
and a towel.
Hidden behind aluminum cans,
tin pans,
an umbrella,
and a ball of wool scarves.
Tip of the blue Bic,
one line after another of
signs and symbols.
The tale of Ida Belle
and the smokestack lighting
she saw as a child
coming from the trains
on the Gulfport Island rail line.
No comments:
Post a Comment