Do you want to go back
inside? the neighbor asks
his small dun dog. Beauty,
do you want to go inside?
A long look at the tiny fluff,
as if speech is imminent.
As if anything is imminent.

What would help you
unpack the boxes? my therapist asks.
Love. And I want an authentic
relationship with unruliness,
layers, and with inside
the dark known unknown.
After the session I go inside
Saint Mark’s, finally, the church
that is a warehouse surrounded
by run-off ponds on the low side
of the highway. I’ve avoided this
ugly place. Passed by it every day.

Mary’s in the office. She shines
lay minister shine. I hold her hands
in mine as she holds my hands
in hers: bone, vein, one pulse.
I’m not a hand-holder—this drawing
together is a mystery. She lists
the ministries. How about a
tour? Food pantry, cradle
in the hallway, candlelit daylight.
Grotto. She calls the crumbling
patio the piazza. Piazza! I see
together, here, we’re inside and outside.
It’s not hideous. It’s a piazza, a
concrete stamp on Florida. Yes.

The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Access one piece of artwork every month for free! To experience the full archive, log in or subscribe.

Related Poetry

image of a grainy moon illuminating clouds over a sea.



Eric Pankey

The Manifestation


Richard Jones

Image of a house in the dead of night. The house sits in the lower left half of the frame and looks like a cut-out from black paper, lit up only by purple light coming from the windows and doors. To the left is an enormous tree shrouded in shadows. A low cloud hangs near the right side sky of the frame. Above the house is a vast sweep of stars on the gray sky.



Adélia Prado

The Clearing


Lêdo Ivo

Pin It on Pinterest