(Ellsworth Kelly, Oil on canvas, 1960, Blanton Museum of Art)
This is it. All you need. Though nothing
resembles anything you know. It's neither
star nor flower, this imperfect oval more
like a fat yellow cigar floating in blue so dark
and bright it couldn't be any sky that's ever
filled your breath. And the bottom third
of the canvas: pure green. You don't have
to do a thing. Can stop the churning of your
desire to turn this high-flying ovoid into an
ear of corn or a squashed halo. This is only
about color: yellow, blue, green. But your
mind is still recalling that the first two can
make the third. Like sun and sky make grass.
You keep trying to put names on these three
shapes, though they have nothing to do with
names. Yet you can‟t leave, for in the high
sky above this bright lawn, a widening sun is
about to drop the egg of itself into your lap.
Poems used with permission of the authors, and may not be re-used without their permission.