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Victoria Elizabeth Ruwi, three poems


SONNET TO AN UNKNOWN LOVER

Your vertical smile is like a symphony:

air vibrating with honeysuckle sound,

piccolo trill lips, coy trumpet harmony,

a refined overture where violins abound.

Your fingers tantalize in curved elegance.

Bow me, tuned cello wrapped in your thighs.

Velvet glide, enfold, incarnate us in trance.

Every rhythm of your trombone vibes

moves, slides amid a timpani timbre.

Clarinet, flute, double bass, palpitate.

Fairy tale my breath away, fine flutter

harp, celesta, glockenspiel tiers: sate.

Be my solo, entice a sonata so pure;

crazed crescendo entwined in rapture.

THE WALLS ARE SENSITIVE

Mona Lisa is suspect. Gape at her in the

Louvre through a vitrine of bullet-proof

glass, crowds kept at bay by wood ellipse,

her hazy mystery protected for centuries

of breath. Da Vinci carried her everywhere

for twenty years, perhaps she is his mother.

Audubon watched wildlife in their habitats,

songbirds chirping their presence, vibrant

parents foraging food to nested newborns,

whooping crane in water, then shot those

birds he painted. Plunders of doves, nuns,

eagles, robins, hummingbirds, parakeets,

cuckoos, pillaged to capture every feather:

claret plumage flying through each canvas.

Look on Raphael’s Madonna of the Pinks;

see their pomegranate cheeks, lilac clothed

mom, unclothed son, his white pillow,

her fair hands, the tiny pinks, carnations

shared by child, by mother; how delicately

she breathes, how tender her baby coos.

TRYING TO AVOID THE CLICHE’

Our all day

lollipop love

now

swirling colors

crystallized

tasteless

in cellophane.

I am a drought

desiccated cactus

shriveled

feral

feckless.

You are

the cliché

unfaithful

lover

and

since it

meant nothing

I will forgive you

when leeches fly.

Bless the flesh

ripping pain

as you

sprout those wings.

Victoria Elizabeth Ruwi survived cancer and began writing poetry. Her book, Eye Whispers, is a life affirming reflection on her experiences.


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