July, and a boy in trunks runs through
a fountain, dashing
through the transparent
beauty of the world, as we do,
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.