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Girl Before a Mirror

May. 30, 2010
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this reorganized form is the sum of destructions— Pablo Picasso

my forehead
a red cortex peeled away a black patch
over one eye
these planes interpenetrate removing

all sense of depth
blessed flames a fire fills the dark space
and warms me shattered and awkwardly

i have made my bed
on sharp edges
all my faces at once
a tension

a meditation a context
to what can be seen
i make my nighttime

familiar with its own decay
the water of mercies

the permanence
of nothing
coming before

and entrances of aging
crowded against myself
in architecture

how many angled into one
the church organist
on the old pipe organ

he holds together
with careful attention
it could fall apart
into so many

disassociated cylinders
but instead music
the cubist paints
he works in his secret room

behind the manifold
of pipes and though
you can’t hear them
voices in the empty choir loft

intersect with the light
make the sun melt
like butter and out of stillness
another and another  

Blair Beacom Deets is a full time poet and writer. She is retired from 
teaching English and Communications at UW- Manitowoc. She was the 
featured poet in the River Oak Review of Elmhurst College, and was a 
finalist for the Pablo Neruda prize of the Nimrod International 
Journal. She also is a playwright.


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