Now daffodils bloom
in watercolor spirit
Skies of tender pastel
blend into the lingering warmth
of caramel breaths in the air.
A girl sighs in the distance,
going somewhere,
smiling occasionally,
scowling sometimes
at the cherry blossoms
or the green grass.
She looks at something
with hope and worry,
maybe about to lose something
or trying to discern
what she’s already lost
while moving as fast
and feeling as much as she did.
The childhood she painted pastel,
the light azure walls of her room
that used to match the spring sky,
faded pictures from 2010,
borrowed CDs and mp3s stacked in her room,
the stillness of a light sweat after school,
spring breeze on her back,
the empty sound of amusement park coins,
days spent on trampolines and gondolas,
first ice creams and strawberries—
“Clouds of warmth used to linger in the air
I would say hi to the neighborhood cat
and feed the apartment dog,
I would play hide and seek
when I wanted to disappear,
not seeing or being seen
for a fraction of my life
I would taste the joy
of being the only person alive,
the only person who knew of my existence,
I knew too much and too little at once.”
She put on her red coat,
and walked on her tippy toes
the wind erasing her steps,
she hugged her coat tightly:
Springs were now cold
and the days were blue.
II
The moon comes out of its shell
fuming with fears, Melpomene and Thalia
meet on the front façade of the Moonrise Kingdom,
where they can see the Earth
and all the wretched
gripping on the edge of the new moon,
swinging back and forth,
some fall and some migrate to Moonrise Kingdom,
others just grip onto the surface of the Earth
so tightly that
they do not see the new moon
until it’s too late,
and it fades into darkness.
Under candle-lit skies
the light air carries
the scent of late plum blossoms.
A candle lit in hopes of green,
Thalia watches the show,
the Earth holds its breath,
all silent–
A woman stands in the mid-darkness of a sunset
her life half-done, she smiles anew.
Her hair dances a colorful bourré,
life trickles down her gray coat,
the interminable warmth of her soul
trickles down her chest.
she unbuttons her shirt
and closes her eyes,
humming as she responds
to the ceaseless melody of
the blades of grass, the moist earth,
and the thin clouds.
Tears travel down her eyes,
leaving the world in a lilac dream,
leaving the forests mid-green and mid-alive,
breaking promises of our childhood,
breaking hearts of uncoated bodies
and bare souls.
You can smell spring in her warm breath,
you can smell the world awakening.
Imagine the sadness she must feel
while looking at the blossoms as
she loses her winter skin.
In the blink of an eye,
she grows blind to the habits of mind,
and to the steam that coats the blue skies,
rid—
of all that conceals the soul,
she regains her sight in a moment of immense pain:
the red coat and all that blues Melpo had whispered in her ear,
she sees before the sun sinks into the mountains
and before the melody shies away.
At that moment, seeing is all that matters.