by Sam Barbee
Hoping for love’s colorful brush,
I begin a self-portrait to capture a real me.
Skylight contrast fades toward midnight.
Streetlight ambiance yellows my mood.
I slide onto my stool, unsure which paint
to dab. Mirror propped on my right, palette
left flush with propositions rather than reflection.
I adorn a background: a black pitcher, a dried spice,
a wall sconce and candle, bruised fruit.
The beveled edge argues to remain austere –
its false-silver content with anonymity.
My muse advises loosen grip, deepen wrinkles.
Lies become choice, not coincidence.
Stroke awry, white hair a wiry resemblance.
No murmurs endorse efforts before me.
Stubborn, I vow a second attempt – concoct
more colorful tints. Scramble tabletop baubles:
add books, a confusion of empty bowls and vases –
any element of affection to compose a canvass
framing a halo of whispers arrayed to love me back.
***
Sam Barbee has a new poetry collection, Apertures of Voluptuous Force (2022, Redhawk Publishing). He has three previous collections, including That Rain We Needed (2016, Press 53), a nominee for the Roanoke-Chowan Award as one of North Carolina’s best poetry collections of 2016. Also, Uncommon Book of Prayer (2021, Main Street Rag) which chronicles family travels in England. His poems have appeared recently in Poetry South, Salvation South, The Ekfrastic Review and upcoming in Cave Wall, among others; plus on-line journals Dead Mule School of Literature, Streetlight Magazine, American Diversity Report, Grand Little Things, and Medusa’s Kitchen.