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


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?”

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