Poetry / March 2013 (Issue 20)

Two Poems

by Anna Yin, art by Mia Funk

Posing for an Artist

Will you draw me in your way,
seeing me only one side,
like a mirror, not intruding?

The dawning light marches in.
Gradually you add shades
where an underground river
swirls and an exhaling
from next door.

I hear a horse’s clopping
from morning mist,
your eyes rise—
hedge around a flower bed,
dewdrops rolling like pearls.

The Path

The door to her room is closed;
there is a whole world there.
He knocks on it for the first time
and retreats with a note—
Stranger, how I wish
a star will guide my sailing.

She folds his note into
a paper crane. Night falls. Hung
by strings, he sees its wings
up in the air.

The second time, he leaves
his hat at the door.
A rose fragile and pale inside
dies slowly.

She gathers the petals and mounts
them on her mirror.
The dawn light glows on them
like sun-wheels.

The third time, he brings
a long white scarf—
waves from an open ocean.
In silence, the door opens.

Blindfolding each other,
they enter the room.

Solace en bleu, acrylic, gouache and pierre noire on artisan paper marouflé on canvas, 130 x 97 cm
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