I thought about your soul today and painted 
    an iris on it. Deep chromatic blues with 
    softer shades of powder
    spilling over to be 
    touched. You tilted with the wind.

    I flicked the light on in the day
    and walked down the hall to the green
    room, looking through the window 
    for words to mark
    the boundaries of
    how beautiful you are, 
    as if I could sieve them 
    from water flowing to the 
    caves, or dancing up 
    from the winter garden. 

    I thought about you as 
    you sat behind your laminated
    desk, waiting the 
    three o'clock trumpets to 
    slay the sacrificial lamb 
    on the third floor
    breakroom of Microsoft; 
    your pipe, the 
    hole in your heart that 
    matches mine. I slip in and out 
    from it, as from my own.
 
    I thought about your 
    soul today and painted an iris 
    on it. Deep chromatic blues with 
    softer shades of powder spilling 
    over to be touched. You tilted 
    with the wind.








M Madison