Portrait

 

She smothers her silence with art.
Like coffee, the taste at first bitter
evolves, takes the head, breaks the heart.

 

Her I is the ex of Descartes
crossed plainly, for though it may split her
she smothers her silence with art.
 

I am does not sum up the part
she plays as the one who’d admit her
evolves, takes the head, breaks the heart.
 

Exactly too static to start,
her whole is the soul of the quitter:
she smothers her silence with art.
 

She moves through the world a la carte
and smorgasbord chaos, to fit her,
evolves, takes the head, breaks the heart.
 

Don’t plot her, she’s not on your chart
and sensible men will permit her
to smother her silence, for art
evolves, takes the head, breaks the heart.