poetry

Some Common Secrets Of Her Essence: Blues.

{Photo via Tumblr}

{Photo via Tumblr}

 

Did everything change
Because her eyes were colored Blue?

She had felt herself
on the tip-toes of her breath
Fireworked gridline points
connected
to Fireworked gridline points

the turned-on Edison bulb moments of her life

Where she could say
with certainty
that this was a chapter
and this.

Here I really met a person.
Here my body chimed.
Here I stepped through.
not the sterile stepping through of institution

But from a passageway
I kept hidden from myself
so as only to put hand on the doorknob
and rotate it later

…

Did it all change
because her eyes were colored blue?

She knew
that sometimes
the knob on her vision goggles
twisted a little differently.

Yeah.

She saw things
a little differently.

She knew we all did.

From one person
to the next.

…

But sometimes
she heard
charged charcoal-smudged conversation:
Two strangers
meeting on the train
on St. Valentine’s Day
sniffing around the issue
of their loneliness
concealing it with
trophy-stories told
of the women they’d perched.

And she knew
what she held
in her mind.

…

Pools

…

Rooms full of graduated Sea-glass.

And she knew
she would give it
to the strangers
if she could.

And she would dot-lick…

their brows
with her own kisses
with shared
and mutual pains
with her own
transparent
Sea-woman eyes
if she could.

She would leak them her own tears.

…
…
…
…
…
…
…

When she looked at the sky
at the Sea
at amino-acid-filled blueberries
on any given day
Did she sense some common secret
of her essence?

That Blue.

Did it change everything?

She began to coil
with the man who fell in love with her
who doted on color
as hard as she did.

Did they coil because he had names –
real… collegiate… studied… names
for so many of the shades?

International Klein Blue.

Was there
some through-line then?
That they slept
on Robin’s egg bedsheets?

That they bled their son
into creation
As steel-guitar
twanged in the background?

His favorite music.
Blues.

Hah!
she thought.
Alright then, color
Weave me.

Shouldn’t I just
name the dog
Blue?

Call the house Indigo?

Shouldn’t I just
get down on my knees daily
and build an altar to this color?
To this way of life?

Did it all change
because her eyes were colored Blue?

Did it shape everything?

Is it why
she wanted to stuff
all these saline moments
into jars,
like
cataloged
collected
Starfish?

***

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Brittany Connors

Brittany Connors

Brittany Connors is an actress, writer, and general life enthusiast based out of NYC. She is a lover of story, text, and all of the various expressions we find to make sense of ourselves and the world around us. She believes all expression is a celebration of this breathtaking existence.
Brittany Connors