SARAH FINN
I think about doubt-
[Carmella’s father pushing
sugar pills into her palm, folding her
fingers around,
as if diamonds,
and his throwing
into her throat
a glass of half empty
sinking in and in and
her numbed notion
of pain and
her numbed notion of better]
I know about doubt-
Small, to be carried in a pocket,
Jangling against a smooth stone,
A chestnut, particles of sunned sand
I know-
As I kiss my fingers together
And bite beneath the nails
I know--
the touch of acrylic white
And the breath before the first stroke on canvas,
[Picasso said to use the rest to fix the first
but Picasso fell in love with at least six beautiful women
and Picasso fell in love with no time between]
I know about Doubt-
I know cherry blossoms
Fall to the ground
Only when pushed by blows
I know cherry blossoms cling to their
Branches in departure
I know they kiss chiseled bark
With chapped lips
With rain pouring across their petals
Moistening their rose-
A tinge-
And I know
They doubt in descent
I know vases are caskets
With the living going until gone
Living until wilted
And we watch
Encasing death on display
Beside wine bottles
And bowls of fruit
A beautiful arrangement of impermanence
[Which I know can be said
of a classroom of school children
and a portrait of Picasso’s lovers]
so I think of the word temporary
but only for this second
before returning to doubt—
A question sitting in the silence
Asked by a boat without anchor
In five years? In ten? What then?
I think about writing a letter to God
And doubt my question
dear god-
do you too?
In us? With us? By ourselves?
What next?
I think about his answer and choices
I think about the sanctity of silence
The holiness of unspoken hail Marys
And prayer kept surely and safely within oneself
I think about doubt
When given time,
in the moment before it passes,
[Like this second for instance
Who has surpassed itself in thousands]