The Good Summer by Alison Prine20 Jun 2018, Posted by Poetry in
Art: Her by Rebecca Weaver
THE GOOD SUMMER
My hands nicked by thorns
are stained by fruit from a bramble.
These hands are fluent in sadness.
But today the air whispers
against my skin
in an unfamiliar language.
Remember when the shadows sliced
their blades through every morning?
July has fringed each parking lot with chicory,
the bright blue of accidental gladness.
Phoebes sing all day from their nests
on the high sills over Main Street.
I feel the pulse of something
beginning to crack its way out of a hard place.
In the sift and glide of these hours
old knives dull in the drawer.
I’M WORKING IN COMMUNICATION, I’M AN ART DIRECTOR, AND A TEACHER OF BRAND COMMUNICATIONS, TOO.
I LOVE TO WORK WITH MY BODY AND ESPECIALLY WITH MY FACE, I’M DEVELOPING A PERSONAL PROJECT ABOUT MY LEGS. MY RESEARCH IS IN “SURREAL MOOD.” FOR THAT REASON USUALLY MY SKIN IS DESATURATED. MY INTENTION IS TO COMMUNICATE ART, NOT SENSUALITY; I’M NOT A MODEL, NEITHER A PROFESSIONAL PHOTOGRAPHER – MY GOAL IS TO CREATE ART FROM EMOTIONS AND CREATIVITY USING A “NORMAL” HUMAN BODY.