Thursday, February 17, 2011


 susan ambrosino

The complicated churning of one individual
bouncing off the complicated churning of another individual
creates a living chain reaction of complications radiating
from the dinner table, to your bedroom, through all the greatest rooms
of your house.

You're aware of a sad person standing alone with
the understanding of your own humanity:
humble, fragile, mistaken,
fingering many emotions like you would finger fine fabrics:
the soothe of silk
the comfort of  cotton and linen
the brusque fiber of wool
the harshness of burlap:
that tough sack that holds the seeds and beans of your thoughts.

The mind can go places the body can't. The mind never
stops, even when the body sleeps.
It thinks of tough burlap, how it withstands rough handling,
it's loose weave breathes, yet was never worn except for
religious mortification….

You know cotton and linen burn steady and slow,
they smell like burning leaves, you can blow them out
like birthday candles,
silk and wool burn like hair, fast, with the smell
of flesh and blood.

The synthetic polyesters, acrylics, burn like wild fire,
melt as they burn, sticking to your skin.
And you feel the mind going dark, but that is not what you intended.
It was joy you wanted to talk about.
The mind's contents sometimes mold, spoil, and rot.
A dropped cigarette can burn your house down.

Oh ! for the safety of synthetic atmosphere:
acrylic denial, polyester illusions,
nylon happy-faces to wear each day.

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