PINK IN NATURE
01.07.16
We were on our way again
we were going somewhere
or so I hoped
you were driving
I said I know of a place
where three states touch
I touched Vermont
and it disappeared
I looked to you
and felt a metaphor empty
I said the weather is as it should be
my pleasure comes in degrees
I feel hostile in a damp state
and angered by wind
you were on your phone
I was kicking
pebbles from cement
small and roundish
pink in nature
and in New Hampshire
it rained
The house winked at me
but I was afraid to go in
he tried to grasp the concept
but it rolled away
he moves easily through the day
and through the town
and this is what drives me
in a slow car from hell
in circles around his neighborhood
from time to time
and from town to town
how one bleeds quickly into the next
despite the signs
the townspeople know
but will never tell
when you find you are thirsty
you have already been thirsty
The opal is optimal
it sometimes finds its home
in a buried shell, a bone
or ancient log
it is optical
because it does not show its true colors
you cannot look at it straight on
you must look at it from every angle
Consequently, fewer gemstones suffer more
than the opal
though you could say it doesn’t feel pain
but to measure pain is tricky
it is always moving
you must be careful when approaching the pain
as if from behind
I saw a ruby in the flesh
and the wound it took
to put it there
I screamed and screamed at it
still it gleamed and went around
terrorizing men
seducing their senses
causing wars of origin
finally I smashed the thing
I pulverized it into a fine powder
I fed the powder to a dying priest
I forced it down the throat of a king
I smeared it into the tear ducts of a prince
then scattered the rest over water
on a whim
and I tell you, that thing
it still had a face
——————
Stella Corso is a poet and performer living in Western Mass. She is a founding member of the Connecticut River Valley Poets Theater (CRVPT) and also performs with Xfinity Theater.