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donall-dempseyPoems
THE ONLY EDEN Granny unable to see would build me touch by touch with her blind fingertips search for the face she would create. Here my cheekbone coming into being there an eyebrow newly born here an eye there a philtrum sculpted from sunlight hewn from nothing here blind seeing fashioning me anew her fingertips butterflies forming this living portrait of the face I own. Her fingers feeling for each nuance...each tone the music of me plucked from thin air one moment I am not then I am all there. I made all the more real. More realer that I could ever be emerging from her fingertips as if I were God's Adam and this her tiny garden the only Eden.
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Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 12:02 PM UTC
THE ONLY EDEN
THE ONLY EDEN Granny unable to see would build me touch by touch with her blind fingertips search for the face she would create. Here my cheekbone coming into being there an eyebrow newly born here an eye there a philtrum sculpted from sunlight hewn from nothing here blind seeing fashioning me anew her fingertips butterflies forming this living portrait of the face I own. Her fingers feeling for each nuance...each tone the music of me plucked from thin air one moment I am not then I am all there. I made all the more real. More realer that I could ever be emerging from her fingertips as if I were God's Adam and this her tiny garden the only Eden.
donall-dempsey
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donall-dempsey
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 12:02 PM UTC
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