If Art Should Ask
If Art should ask me did I suffer for
his sake, I'll tell him no - unless you count
the times I put the sky aside to core
an apple for a baby boy or to mount
a child's butterfly with paper wings
onto a cold refrigerator door.
If Art should ask what song it is that sings
inside my heart, I'll answer quick, before
I've once again forgotten all the words
not written down - but if he feels he needs
a freer melody the caged blue bird's
the better one to ask. She sings for seeds.
She does not know Art's name, nor does she care.
She simply sings whatever songs are there.
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