Member Poem

I.
She presses her cheek against the world's chest,
recording what she hears.

II.
She speaks in color for
the hard of ear
and music for the hard of eye.

III.
She stops her walk to hold
a browning leaf, deciphering the way
the fallen part contributes to the living whole—
and when she writes
she knows she too participates.

IV.
She wraps
the sun in green, and waves
enchanted adjectives
to make and twist—
and in her twisting unravels
the knot of what is trite
to see anew the beauty of a yellow sun.

V.
She doesn’t fully comprehend
and doesn’t wish to.

VI.
Sometimes she tugs and bends
a thing until it breaks.

VII.
Sometimes she paints her words in blood,
and tricks you into thinking
that blood
is beautiful.

VIII.
Her ballpoint pen
goes wandering from pre-planned paths
and often finds
a place far greater than
the goal.

IX.
Sometimes she breaks,
sometimes makes whole.