“Imagination is more important than knowledge.”
Einstein
I’m here with paints and brushes
coffee cans of water, the stuff
they can hold and reach with
beyond their muffled borders
metal and glass- the frames of
their hard won, objectified land,
safe with the dangerous edges.
Perched on the chair back
like a dark crow
Tony draws a graveyard
signs that they all died
in a freeway crash, executes
a wounded swan dive, smacking the floor
with his flimsy chest.
Billy’s popeye arms lift the school
over his head, thin, birdy fingers
grip a green crayon he’s colored
all his nails with and his chin.
The plugged holes where Michu’s
ears should be are infected
and draining again. He’s under
the desk lost in purple
soundless scribbles, a fence
where he’s safely coralled.
Celine draws a house of glass
windows and no doors, no way in
or out, just a peek through crossbars
where all is sleep tight and orderly
and no monkey curtsies
for the queen of what could be.
Here there are no karioke kangaroos
or laughing shoes, here are only
sharp cornered dreams that bruise
and freeway pileups of hard edged nouns.
Then Rindy draws a princess
with lopsided crown, diamonds
big as plums, leaves off
her glasses, draws big, lashy
blue eyes and silver crayoned moons
in place of hearing aids.
Unrealistic body image the teacher says
but I pretend I can’t hear
take a large sheet of paper
that shines with water and paint--
a castle I say, for anyone
who wants to come, free bluebird
flights this week only, hop on board.
Slowly, Celine paints a door
then as the sun slides from behind
a cloud, the room slowly fills
with light and she steps
over the threshold into nothing--
moves her hands in strange, frilly
signs no one has ever seen before.
Bookmark/Search this post with:
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
