ARTIST STATEMENT

What draws us to certain people can be as inexplicable as what parts us from them. Each leave-taking is hollowed out of a lifetime: a glimpse over the shoulder, an instant message never opened, and all the shared spaces in between. There is always something that holds the keepsakes we never meant to lose.

PRAISE

I had to reread this several times. It stirred my curiosity, partly because the poem begins with the end of a story but then ends with the beginning of a story. The poem paints the cycle of the sun, or cycle of relationships, or cycle of life, or all of them all at once. Upon cycling through it a bunch of times, I realized that, with each reading, I was emulating the cycle the poem presents. I don’t know if that is by design, but the effect is there and I loved it.

—Lyrical Lunacy

“Last Lines” responds to The Paint It prompt by Lyrical Lunacy.

Last Lines

             A story is ending. Shall I tell you now
of the part where I would have promised you
color—

             orange, bright, and maybe a touch
defiant,

             because I thought that we could still
play at being children, speak to each other
always

             of beginnings. Soon, we will approach
the quiet of two people with no more stories
to share. I want at the last to be able to say,
“Look!” and show in my palm

             a molten drop that is ember and sunset,
petal and painting, jewel or piece of
crayon.

                             We began with that day
                             you showed me the picture
                             drawn by your hand. People,
                             sketched in pencil, their faces
                             shaded. One by one, you
                             told me their names.