Archives :: Janet I. Buck
Nothing But a Gilded Frame
Appeared in the 1999-2004 issue.
I have assigned you thrones
in canyons of a wish.
Made you into tapestries
of silk and oriental gods.
Growing up without a mother
forced my dream to fill that hole.
Words have noblized your flesh.
It wasn't here to grate on me.
Send me screaming to my room.
I've made you into doves and angels
sitting on a passing cloud.
Turned you into hooks and nails
for artistry imbued with
ache and emptiness attached
to losing heroines who might
have calmed a fitful sea.
My memories debatable,
puffed like whisked
white whipping cream.
Your heart, in the final tally,
was a masterpiece
with nothing but a gilded frame,
clairvoyant glass shining
in compassion rites.
I needed a portrait to hang.
View bio information and additional poems published in Half Drunk Muse on the author's main archive page.
Copyright 1999-2012 Janet I. Buck.