Sandra Dutton

On Knowing

 

by Sandra Dutton

for Mary Ellen Rickey 

 

What puzzles me

is the light in the wicker

 

How it loops over the bridge

gathers cream

incises metaphors

 

And the yellow pekinese

how it spans the sound

abides the cordoned mode

  

Gleaning mysterious shades of yesteryear

attaching bright ribbons to her portable mixer,

Janene attempts to know the thing

 

(Perhaps she should drink tequila

offer Kant a slab of lamb)

 

But the checkerboard at the entrance

leaves her hopping

slanting toward the hall of Ruth

 

Was it melted?  she asks

Does it bulge or shine?

Will you hang each knock from an inventory of nails?

 

            For if you can’t know

a thing

if you must stand agog

at a thing

you might as well ride to Fayette

on a Zephyr

 

All right then think of a number

any number

for beauty is truth and cannot be

found through reason

 

Cautiously we raise the flag

converge on the Galleria

 

I have a good idea—

let’s outline the moon in spikes

make it look like a thistle

 

Oh members of Parliament

postmen, taxmen

aficionados of chili

 

To know to know to know

the formless

to sing of mesquite and

melting sorbet