Susan Bee
“Bliss Dancer”
Photograph of Bliss Dance sculpture
on Treasure Island, San Francisco
Permission
By Barbara Duarte Esgalhado
Response
There is something peculiar
about a dress turned inside out.
With seams agape, unabashed
it just sits there
taking up air
merely existing, making no excuses
for laying open, naked, possible.
So much potential pressing against
a Cerulean sky, hidden again,
if we just flip the thing outside in.
Then we’re right back to normal,
to the ordinary, to that place
where we are suppose to live
in deep appreciation of the smallness of every day.
We tell ourselves: this is what life is
this is what really matters
the maddening gestures of a loved one
a recalcitrant child’s relinquished sigh
as he finally surrenders himself to sleep
a close friend’s casual, careless remarks
that could cut deep
if we let them.
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