A thousand drawings of the same head
in film-still sequence: a flip
page cartoon. Brow moves lashes
lift from a split second shut—
maybe: a hand rising to the leaded lips
with Gideon’s trumpet
playing rose petals falling.
Such divinity.
Or, just a witnessing of movement,
the mastery of musculature,
the crescendo of, maybe,
a perfect sneeze:
glazed eyes, rippling skin
around the nose, precarious cradle
of the head, the sublime rollback,
eyeballs ecstatic, turn upwards to the lid
then the final phlegm lurch
expelled in misty cascade
right off the parchment page.