Modinha 2007, Beatriz Milhazes
The petals only slightly unfurled; artfully disposed.
An algebraic structure not yet mapped out.
Fragility emerging from a hidden code deep inside.
A thing only tangentially measurable; from the likes of which,
emerged a speck of beauty sitting amongst blades of grass.
Next to the gas station chain on the corner.
Cluttered by stolen shopping carts and oil stained parking spots.
Selling their lottery tickets, and cigarettes and alcohol. Class preserving products;
sold behind plywood doors standing in for shattered glass.
Far from the music and art galleries downtown.
Where college students barhop. Bouncing from venue to venue, ever more drunk,
and listen, entirely separate, from the harmonies of this misplaced freckle of color.
And I think, maybe, if I sit here long enough, and distill and distill,
my battle weary beliefs might waver; passing in shades of amber.
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