by Carol Hamilton

grey tree

“Grey Tree,” oil on canvas, by Piet Mondrian, 1911.

Scarlatti’s sheet music lies
on the floor near the piano
and a catalog for later perusal
is sprawled in full color
near the computer. I think
of the scissor-snips
of Rockette legs and
all the hours lined up
perfect in purpose.

My backyard is covered again
with broken branches
that lost pretty positions
against sky in a battle
with reality. Nothing stays
where it belongs for long
but still we push at truth knowing
someday we will be perfect.

Published 5 March 2014.

Carol Hamilton’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Christian Science Monitor, Atlanta Review, The New Laurel Review, The Tribeca Poetry Review, and many others. She has published 16 books, most recently Master of Theater: Peter the Great and Lexicography. She is a five time Pushcart Prize nominee and a former Poet Laureate of Oklahoma.