During intermission of my daughter’s ballet recital
a blind girl explores the stage..
Her swaying movements tranquil as a backyard
hammock, she saturates us with envy.
Oblivious to our stares, she performs her solo
for us who are handicapped with inhibition.
Her hands caress the velvet curtain
as she slowly spins her yellow dress.
I wonder if in her mind she is touching
giant rose petals. What is yellow
in a world where color is not seen,
only absorbed? Her face is calm wonder
as she flits through a moment of no
reticence, no boundaries, no fear.
The dance ends. Graciously nobody claps.
Pink Hearts & Death
Miss Knepple’s gray ponytail wiggled as she wrote.
The chalk spit dust as she crossed the first “t” in constitution.
--I made my move.
A declaration of love, complete with pink hearts carefully drawn
to make sure they weren’t too skinny or fat
My stomach felt floppy when my fingers touched her palm,
and when she smiled I missed it because I was scared to look.
As the third “t” received it’s cross, the ponytail stopped;
Impossibly seeing the hopeful transaction
the moment lurched
from romance to horror
as the Freak
I stood in front, my masterpiece
in hand, and went to death
As I read...
“I hold your love
like a fragile dove...”
Blake and Rusty could even see the pink hearts.
Devon Veater is currently studying Introduction to Creative Writing with Josh Rathkamp at Mesa Community College.