Forty-Three

sometimes beauty is so
raw and pure she stings like the
warm blood feeling that fills
your mouth after biting your
tongue.
other times, beauty is so
quiet and smooth she slips
past your notice like
cold water racing
down your
throat
faster and
faster-
you hardly know what you're drinking.

sometimes beauty is just best
left alone. like museum exhibits or
wallpaper or dolls on display-

-the raindrops hanging on leaf edges
the trees yawning to reach the sky
the navy blue mountain ridges
in perpetual freeze-

even if you walk by beauty
without calling her name, she will
forgive you-

we do it every day.