Ode to What Is Beautiful
by Asia Calcagno
Still-
you speak of nostalgia
sweet melancholy wish that
you had a camera
when my eye scraped
against UV rays
burning brown glow
behind sun bleached hair-
to you this
was the most beautiful thing
I never understood
addiction in this
Still-
my escapade is
to search for your traits
in another man
who'd splurge
open minded
in the left side of my brain with
free speech that roams like black sheep
let me speak of taboo
and how WE can change the world
no laughter in my dream.
Make love to answers of
my questions
bless me with invincibilty-
cuz you said
"Some people think
that they are invincible."
But still-
I live off of the cliff
of your lips during journey.
In lieu of every word
you ever spoke
I give you this ode
and place it off
the gem of sharp tongues
to the smallest point
over your body
that glimmers into emeralds
I'll watch envious as you gloss
it with philosophy. Philosophy
more like a hymnal-
a tribute rolled out under
dire feet, leaking
purity that oxygenates your veins
the spider like ones
the healthy green ones
that pulsate arms that I swear would scythe
through forest heat
harpoon in hand
and fight demons off of
angel's backs.
You remind me of beauty.
My voyage is difficult, not many
men are you.
How many times you say
you miss me
I'll kiss another jewel
that papoose hands hold
illumination off of baby eyes
stunning how weakness
stabs the corners of my face.
My first dimple pushed
into cheeks at thought
of you- though
never wanting
dimples like fingers of children
pressed into play-doh
characters
it's too gorgeous.
Let me stand your stance-
like soles of Jesus'
feet and the water
that sits under
hardened like a Harlem street
so I can comprehend your
addiction of my image.
And question-
if your hands sew
my hearts outline
to crucifix
what beauty crosses your mind
with someone's eyes
beating against
burning edges of the sun?