“A drop of water bristles at the moment of creation
in fear of losing the purity of its original form.”
~Dali
What is integral to this figure?
There is a butterfly fold and pin;
Terminus, arc, and loop:
The cello cusp traces
The curve’s remnant, lovingly
Fingers in the silence that draws
Breath. Bold in these remains,
The bow holds until the note
Fades and the sound uncusps,
Uncurves, unfolds: We can gentle
Our hands in this canvas, delve
And gather light. There is a clean path,
A line that laces the canvas,
A line you can trace, a line
So graceful and clear
It could never tire or grow ugly.
Could we ever hope to grow so
Light, ever hope to milk this so blue?
If the soul were a string of bells
It could not stand on its own,
Need be set lest it vanish, its echo
Inverted by a weird lens and
Disembodied: Two drops of water
With different reflections.
***
Robert Jonte
Robert Jonte graduated from the College of Charleston where he was President of the English Club and interned for Crazyhorse Magazine. He studied with Morton Marcus in the Prague Summer Program and returned to the city to earn his Cambridge CELTA. He currently teaches English in South Korea.
