There are dark threads that weave across.
A stroke that arcs a path, a flick that
hints a stream, shadows pulled from where they
hid in amongst the streaks,
or a quiver caught on lonely cheeks,
a shattered glimpse of a man on the moon:
all a connection between my thoughts and you.
A silky paper that’s framed with jet,
flows of ink that dripped from an
unclenched mind into the right places.
It’s not where the pen touches – the art is
how you join the spaces.
So as you lean in and wrinkle your nose
at the title I chose or the price that gets
placed on a little bit of me; breathe in
and smell the scents of the translation; the flower
that unfurled inside a mind’s eye, expressed as
“Pen and ink by Nancy Lepo, $200”.