India ink harpoons its way into fabric
Strung around alabaster bone,
Staining an olive cloth with polychromic significance,
Injecting an artist’s rendering of alternative beauty
Between the stitches
Of an otherwise ordinary material.
And the canvas draped down the side of my neck
Bends toward the needle
Stationed between veteran fingers,
Tissue yearning to quicken the rate of absorption,
Faster, so that
This masterpiece can be displayed in exhibition
For the ordinary world to consider.
Blank – clear
That conventional parents threaded
And time blemished into ordinary imperfection,
Will irrevocably bear witness to
The colors, the fluidity,
The extraordinary vibrancy that is and will always be
Indicative of me.