Lily, Picasso & The Golden Mean
The bride wore knee sox.
Kissing the ground her mother walked on,
Taking me back in time to a place
Like no other I’ve ever seen before—
Where sitting on a park bench,
Carl Jung was eating ice cream
Wondering if he had enough traveler’s checks,
He hadn’t been to Phoenix but he would someday—
He thought about the story of Cinderella
And how the myth had grown
From one of war & disaster
To one of victory & incest in the dark,
She bit her father’s earlobe & swallowed
His diamond earring
Should she tell her mother?
Who worshipped him like a God?
But she kept her silence & made great paintings
In the barn, murals too big to mention
& Her lesbian lover crept in from the neighbor’s farm,
A dusty fairy with broken teeth
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