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]