Skin Deep

 

There should be a zipper in the back

So on days like this we could unzip

Step out of it, fold it carefully, then

Leave it on the kitchen counter, and

Out we go, without beauty, without

Race, just crisscrosses of pink and

Shades of red, some off whites, and

Greys, fat and bones, some muscles

And all those veins and arteries that

Keep us going; it’s easy enough to

Imagine, we’d go around like one of

Those biology class torsos, visible man

Visible woman, all our working parts

Exposed, ready to be pointed out, or

Pulled out and examined if need be;

There would be equality in all this

A new nakedness, a different sense of

Ourselves and others, of how we move

And how we should fill our space and time.

*****’

            The Incomplete Angler

 

There should be something catchy to call him,

The casting castaway, the incomplete angler,

Something to catch his actions, his presence,

His hours of walking the pier, flicking his line

Into the water between the boats, his jerking

His line while walking, reeling in and casting

Over and over, without the encouragement

Of a catch, a fish of any sort, it’s movement

Without results, without a pause, and at some

Point each day he removes his shirt, continues

Browning and burning the hours away, walking

Casting, flicking the line; everyone watches him,

We all do, waiting for the fish that never appears,

He never stops to bait the hook or check his lure,

It’s as if nothing were wrong, he plays his part,

The fish play theirs, none at all, fishing without

The fish, dancing without the dance, he moves on,

The incomplete angler, content, contained, while

The rest of us expect to find a fish on every line.

*****

 

   Truth and Beauty

It’s not so much where

or when, or even how

we find them,

it’s that we still do

that surprises us most.

We expect so little,

but sometimes if

we sit perfectly still

hold our breaths

lift our feet just so

and suspend all our reasons

to disbelieve

we find them.

We find them

here and over there

and if we look quickly

there’s some more

trying to hide over there.

We find them

and they’re ours,

at least for that moment

they’re ours.

J.K. Durick jdurick2001@yahoo.com