Whitney Jones Olson
Secret Garden - Poem by Whitney Jones Olson
She hears the Carmina Burana behind her eyes,
the oratorio asks to be pulled from her / into text /
She breaks the law two hours after waking,
sits in linen through the afternoon / pontificates /
wonders about abstractions
tell me, tell me, about Art and Honesty / she shows you /
Rational is an amiable liar, quiet in his paradoxical prison /
She tells you.
In the Secret Garden, 'there is a girl that no one sees,
there is a heart / that beats in silence / for a life, '
She's never known.
Haunted is the word we use, for a writer,
with ivy crumbling the perceptive stairways / She
would like to know you.
She discovered Renoir at Goodwill,
her mother tried to throw him away, her the eye beholden
but he hangs in the kitchen, he does, and she accidentally spattered him while painting
the Canon is an abstraction.
Rilke and his balconies make her cry,
and this is how a French German English Indian garden goes.
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