Poem: Canary
Canary
-Rita Dove
From Grace Notes
Billie Holiday’s burned voice
had as many shadows as lights,
a mournful candelabra against a sleep piano,
the gardenia her signature under that ruined face.
(Now you’re cooking, drummer to bass,
magic spoon, magic needle.
Take all day if you have to
with your mirror and your bracelet of song.)
Fact is, the invention of women under siege
has been to sharpen love in the service of myth.
If you can’t be free, be a mystery.
Mirrored from Cyn Armistead.