Tonight's Poet Corner: The Symbol Of
The Symbol Of by Belinda Roddie This is just an outline of how we begin and end, of how our lines intersect before they're back to parallel and forced to repel the magnetism. I draw your fingers over mine, using pencil because the ink will make this far too permanent. Everything is temporary, and the dust of graphite just seems to emphasize that reality. When two ballerinas pose for me, their toes half-digested within the maws of hungry pointe shoes, I let the canvas crease under my brush. The geometry demands a pressure point, a level of anxiety that I can add color to - reds and greens and blues. You are a collection of dots and segments, of criss-crosses and strict angles, but when I add your curves later, the shapes form a mosaic of faces, all coated with cement, their teeth glittering with broken glass and marbles buried into each nostril. I make little for my art, and you make little time for my attention. When we are perpendicular to each othe