May 9, 2017

choosing carefully

There was a time we knew exactly what we wanted,
dipped the brush of our desire all the way up to the neck,
then swiveled our arms to their fullest expanse, pleased at the trail
we were leaving. Now, we labor too long, hovering over our own certainty
as if we were waiting for some fog to clear, nervous about the mark
we'll make, or the space it will take up when we make it. I wonder,
at the final reckoning, which will be more bearable: our splatter
or our restraint. If we will peel ourselves from the pages under our elbows
and marvel at the clean borders or the way our skin is worn with stains.