- By Caden Luke (he/they)
- Art “Parlor Room” by Ellie Aquilanti (she/her)
You and I, once both
alive and indifferent
In different times
and places
in space
Despite
righteous debtors’
caustic words
hurled alongside
fragmented
shards of verse,
We stand proud.
By grace of a God
that resides
in volumes as yet unturned,
the sharp words they lob
trim my shapely form.
We stand in truth
on the backs
of greater beasts
than time
or you and I.
We are but arms
for the same Universal impulse:
to portray a world all its own
Where days bleed from the page,
visceral and crimson as
petals that weep
odorous perfume.
A love defined by taste refined:
grit plucked from well-heeled boots
and swished to a nacreous lustre.
We remain caught in the
cycle:
Mired in admiration
of that which demands
no such response,
we must compose ourselves.
In our differences,
We still don
refined vestures
the same.
Enveloped by textures
in parlors,
We look inside.
We imbibe
this wisdom divine
and inscribe
our consecrated thoughts:
Divine orders to create.
To create beauty;
or just create.
