René Magritte, 1960
O, vapor poised like fingers
on the lip of the glass. O,
atmospheric voice, an exhale
bluing the mountains. Wildflowers,
too, in chorus. O, starry mouths
of harebell. O, chiming-bells
crooning their secrets to the bees:
See how I can change for you,
most beloved when I blue.
The enduring romance of stones
lichened, likened to the body
of a lover. O, what love wants
to make of us. One cloud heavying
into a storm. Each droplet, a digit
pressed to the earth, playing on.
O, vapor poised like fingers
on the lip of the glass. O,
atmospheric voice, an exhale
bluing the mountains. Wildflowers,
too, in chorus. O, starry mouths
of harebell. O, chiming-bells
crooning their secrets to the bees:
See how I can change for you,
most beloved when I blue.
The enduring romance of stones
lichened, likened to the body
of a lover. O, what love wants
to make of us. One cloud heavying
into a storm. Each droplet, a digit
pressed to the earth, playing on.
Taylor Brunson is a poet living in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Her work has recently been featured in Non.Plus Lit, The Daily Drunk Mag, perhappened, and Dwelling Literary. She serves as an assistant poetry editor for Four Way Review and an assistant nonfiction editor for Nashville Review. Taylor can be found on Twitter, @taylor_thefox.