By Misti Lake
Date: 10 February 2001
Your Holiness
Sunday morning and you've left
for work after another
bad start
I look at my art on the walls
and my heart reaches
my eyes
as I realize
without you
there would be no
bright splashes of color
no splatters of pink
no Crayola mosaics
no blue saguaro standing sentry
at sunset
I can't let my pain
stain your bluebonnet mural
I can't let the rain
dance away your sun crazy skies
to some remote piece of Arizona
I can't let the ghosts rattle their chains
and seep into your sleep
I've got to keep
my eyes open
to the truth
the rare precious jewel tones
of what you have
given me
complementing my spastic primary blotches
even when I
was wretched & artless
and unable to form
a "thank you"
with my twisted
scowling mouth.
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