The structure of – a poem by Melissa J. Varnavas

The structure of

Let’s talk about
the structure of
peace.

Let’s establish
its scaffolding
galvanized

iron, of course,
wrapped in leaves of
gold and platinum.

The windows won’t be
windows at all, but
waterfalls to distort

the view of the violent
world around our construction.
And in the universe, the blown

brown-flecked seagulls and
the heron storm so blue you
lose sight of the flying

to the coming night.
Forget about structure.
What peace would

have structure anyway?
It is fly and fly and a sudden
collection of winter

moths brushed up from
a pile of wet November
leaves because they see

the florescence through
office windows. And so they
gather there, their luminous flux

frozen to the glass, reminiscent of
a touch so tender it makes you
shudder. Let’s call that flicker

of recognition, peace. As much
as the flicker of Saturday morning
sunlight through the maple fire

red, orange, yellow, gray branches
through the panes of glass to moss-light
your bare breast as it rises and falls

like poetry,
like chaos,
smooth.

 

Melissa J. Varnavas is a poet, journalist, and editor living in Beverly, Massachusetts. A graduate of the Solstice MFA program at Pine Manor College, her work has appeared in the literary journals in Oberon, End Times, Blast Furnace, Margie, The New Guard, and elsewhere.

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