more murmured truth

 

The professor says there is a difference between beauty that is apparent

and that which lives within. We all nod like we know.

After all, we’ve read the stories, old crones shedding rags and wrinkles

for flashing jewels on fresh throats.

A wrinkled old turtleneck and boots that can’t begin to be presentable

become bright in the projector’s light as he crosses the room.

He apologizes for his sweaty hands and passes around a milkweed pod,

ghost carcass in hand flickering spectral in the projector’s steady gaze, clairvoyant.

Down on the desk and dried debris, this is no fairytale rose.

But these seeds hold more murmured truths than that which he can speak plainly.

Perhaps we understand.

© 2015 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.


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