This is my first poem in a while (I’ve been trying to write only songs, not poems). It was liberating because there are things you can do in poetry that you just can’t do in songs.
One of my writing groups met in an Annapolis art gallery for inspiration. Cindy Fletcher-Holden and her husband are an ice-dancing couple. They also sailed across the Atlantic in their own boat, with their cats. She also wrote a fascinating book about the trip. She also paints gigantic, beautiful, colorful scenes of classic cars reflecting each other.
Written: January, 2020 (1)
Trigger warning: contains math!
The 1957 Chevy’s chrome-plated bumper reflects—light— off every other chrome-plated bumper and hood ornament: Dodge ram, Jaguar leaper, Chief Pontiac, Nash flying goddess naked lady: real-man froufrou. The 1957 Chevy’s chrome-plated bumper reflects—light particles— like interacting elements of an undiscovered Non-Abelian nonexistent monster sporadic finite simple group: math-guy abstract nonsense. (2) The 1957 Chevy’s chrome-plated bumper reflects—light— like mom’s 25th-anniversary silver, which—she—hated. It reminded her of humiliation at the Saint Raymond’s Cathedral ladies’ auxiliary coffee and tea, when she hosted, when all she could afford was a nice chrome pot. not—good—enough raised—plucked—eyebrows “Oh my dear” 1 inspired by the paintings of Cindy Fletcher-Holden 2 an actual term in actual math