You’re Hard to Read

You’re hard to read;

complicated,

multi-faceted,

with cavernous depths untapped

by casual communication,

blotted missive,

dog-eared corners,

obscure references to images

buried in time and place,

needing a good dusting, an

Ephesian library.

What hidden treatise

lurks within your leaves?

You reduce me to an illiterate,

a picture-book primer to your Tolstoy;

what words do I use

to translate you to my heart?

Open the Book

How do you feel if I stop and stare?

Do you ever get tired of those who dare

to judge you by the way you look?

Would you rather your viewers open the book

and peek inside, to find your heart?

Are you short-changed if viewers’ art

Is limited to outside skin?

What are you really like, deep within?