Ellee Speaks

Look at you, sitting on the bed
in your favorite flare Jeans,
soft wisps of hair in the clavicle’s shadow.
Look at your hair glowing like a corona
around the softening contours of your face.
Look your long hands lifting
a cell phone up to your lips, as if
to kiss every glorious voice you’ve heard.
Look at those eyes.
They are not the pale cave-fish
you thought they were, not swallowed
in what you thought were potholes
along the forehead’s pasty desolation.
Look at you. Allow yourself
this joy, this pleasure. Look
at you. Look at that grin lifting
the cheeks. Look at your flaring
nostrils and the trembling chin.
Look at the dust that hangs in the air.
Look how it fills your lungs with glitter.
Look at you.
Look at us.
Look at our new home
with it’s billions of lovely things.
Look. Look and see
how eager we all are to live.


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