Harlem Studio Museum (ekphrastic)
And so the heart traveled through the ocean
In a bubble of stale oxygen
Past moons and stars and galaxies
Searching for a place to settle.
And as it traveled its pieces
The horned beings that clung to its life
Debated
Or, dare I say, argued
Over who would become king.
“I should be king!” roared Beat,
“For I am the largest.
You all lay across my base.
It is only right.”
“No, no, no!” giggled Flutter,
“I should become king.
For I am the most beautiful
And thus our people will listen
To me and all I say.”
“That makes no sense at all!” Pump shook his veins,
“I should become king.
After all, I connect us all.”
“But why must we have a king?”
Silence murmured, her voice quiet
Among the rest,
“We’ve not had one before
And we’ve done fine, I believe.
Who could decide who’s to be ruler?
Are we not all equal?
Are we not all
Simply pieces of a whole?”