Poem/a/Day: Charioscuro by Rodrigo Bocanegra

Playing Chiaroscuro

…One most consider, before it is too late to consider,

The phenomena of light, and the perishability of it,

The phenomena of dark are sensible to the insensible only. - Tennessee Williams, “Counsel”

I am reminded of your beauty.

The thought of the sine-cera statues of the renaissance

reminds me of your quest for pellucidity,

one that appears when light meets darkness

and slowly falls like honey

from your bruised rib

until it gets lost at the end of your sculpted legs.

Yes, sometimes I like to imagine you

as a human sculpture,

when I rub my entire palm against your firm body

and I create that sound that so much resembles

that of the sea when it abandons the sand.

I feel like an old sculptor

applying fine sand paper on the surface

of his most precious work.

Then…

I like it when the cold takes hold of your room

because it is the only instance when all of your body

your skin, your lips…

shiver.

And that shivering is vulnerable

And that vulnerability pacifies the density of your body

It gives it color and blood

It makes it more human.

And when that same cold makes you blossom

like the fruit of a cattail

it brings me warmth

and then you and I begin a chiaroscuro dialogue

and then we allow darkness to enter light

and we let them confuse us.

Voices are no longer necessary,

our bodies,

all parts of our bodies

speak for themselves and amid themselves

they hold their own dialogue

they speak of sounds, colors, textures…

of old anecdotes.

And when one of us rushes

to utter unnecessary words

then they become silent, angry, and disappear.

We no longer see them again.

Poem by Rodrigo Bocanegra. Image is L’Autre Moi by mkorchia on Flickr.