Sue Sinclair

July, and a boy in trunks runs through

a fountain, dashing


through the transparent

beauty of the world, as we do,


goose-fleshed, shivering.

The unexplained madness:  we’re scared


to look up, might find ourselves

staring the gift horse in the mouth.


Water, its riches, like ropes of glass beads,

ropes of them.  We don’t know


the real thing though we imagine it,

living the arc of our lives under


the vault of the invisible.

But even here – a small park between


suburban houses, tame gorgeousness – beauty

can’t hold still.  Demands we live quickly,


brilliantly.  The burden of the created.

We each know someone


who has sickened or died from it:

exhausted by its own plenitude, the world


sinks under the surface,


Source:  Sinclair, Sue.  Mortal Arguments.  Brick Books, 2003. 

Many thanks to Mrs. Sara Lutes for the photo featuring her beautiful son Maxwell.