Poem: Surfacing – Ronnie K. Stephens
May 7, 2009 § Leave a comment
Her ice-blue eyes peer deep
when she fixes her gaze to mine,
her mind turning me over and over.
Despite the internal world
she insists I can’t understand
and polished theory of relative existence,
she practices the art of simplicity when she speaks.
You make me smile big.
Not like a house
or with lily cheeks
stretched across porcelain skin.
Like big is big
and she cannot make it small.
She likes talking to me
when she wants to be left alone,
when she prefers to sit and listen
at the entrance to a door
she is not ready to open.
Her mother does not exist, she says.
Nor Israel, nor Lebanon.
These are not childhood revelations.
They are her way of life.
Leaned against her trunk, she fidgets
with her watch. I ask her for the second time
what she thinks of me.
I think you exist
when you’re not with me.
A finger upon my neck,
eyelashes flitting against my chest.
I can only smile. Big.