It's the one about the one-ton
temple bell
with the moth sleeping on its surface,
and every time I say it, I feel the excruciating
pressure of the moth
on the surface of the iron bell.
When I say it at the window,
the bell is the world
and I am the moth resting there.
When I say it into the mirror,
I am the heavy bell
and the moth is life with its papery wings.
And later, when I say it to you in the dark,
you are the bell,
and I am the tongue of the bell, ringing you,
and the moth has flown
from its line
and moves like a hinge in the air above our bed.
lovely, and the blue adds mystery.
ReplyDeleteMaggie, The blue does add mystery ... wax was not an easy medium for me ... never got the right ventilation so I just when on to something else.
DeleteExquisite piece, Mary Ann, and I love the poem, too.
ReplyDeleteSharmon, Poetry is so expressive and putting imagery to the words can be a beautiful experience.
Deleteoh wow... gorgeous words and images...
ReplyDeleteCaterina, Thank you, The three are in separate white frames and hang vertical on a narrow wall and I try to stop and enjoy. So easy to get busy and stop noticing the things we love.
DeleteI too am a Billy Collins fan. A made a small book with his poem about a country house and mice getting into matches. Can't remember the title off the top of my head.
ReplyDeleteJill, Thanks for stopping by ... the only Billy Collins poem I can recall about mice were his words on the three blind mice so I'm not familiar with the one about a house, mice and matches. Glad to find another Billy Collins fan!
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