Elegy for Lawrence Ferlinghetti looks like wings flying off birds Dust digging as far as it can inside itself a piece a piece a piece. So anyway, I’m pretty sad you are gone. Pictures gone mad with hope in a gone world That’s how I’m feeling right now. Do you know you are loved? Hope you are okay. So anyway. Take care of yourself, okay? Bye for now. Thank you for liberating me. - Jessica M. Wilson 11:17pm 2/23/2021 For Lawrence Ferlinghetti – on his passing. Ometeotl March 24, 1919 (Yonkers, New York) – February 22, 2021 (San Francisco, California)
To the lipstick that made my Mom happy, I smelt you today, because the sudden rise of your aroma, a suddenly ripe expiration to a wax well used, sticky, rich, and captivating. A heavy tread across the highlights of your lips. Creases of embarrassed smiles, a guilt of not belonging, or a lessening, or insecurity. Yeah, that's about ripe. But your thickness glamourized my Mom with your crimson promise, of keeping her young, beautiful, a ritual of engagement with the mirror, A promise she knew. Always hid. JmWC 11 18 20 1053