thank you JT,
this one is about that high bred heartbreaker
we all know them well.
the markers of evolution, the front growing face,
the jaw, the supple neck, the breast, the waist to hip ratio,
the lines as it were...
these lines have boundaries. they must be within certain
parameters for if they fall beyond these parameters,
they no longer carry their darwinian signal.
sometimes you see someone so effortlessly within these
boundaries, it warrants a poem.
imagine drifting through life being so within boundaries that
you never have to strain to appear graceful or beautiful
for a woman this means never having to suck in their cheeks
or pout their lips, or otherwise strain to nudge or imprison themselves
into the cute range if but for a second.
it means having things handed to you,
and breaking hearts of giants
without having to lift a finger.
people like this are given everything,
and in the end, what they give to the world,
is often nothing. for to give outward, we must
imprison ourselves, we must catch a butterfly in a net.
the last line, she speaks softly, or not at all, pays this off.
perhaps in this last line, we find a call for depth,
we find different parameters to focus on.
the poem is both a lament of the inevitable
unfairness of genetic grace,
but can also be read as an entreatment
to changing our perception of what matters.
after all, grace can't exist unless the viewer imbues it.
it's up to the reader
having described my motive, does it help you read the piece differently?
The only thing that's capital-T True is that you get to decide how you're going to try to see it. You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn't.... The trick is keeping the truth up-front in daily consciousness. – DFW