A Self Portrait in the Third Person
You’ll notice her red hair first.
Maybe that’s all you’ll have time for.
Fire, you’ll think. Beautiful.
She must have a temper.
She must be seductive.
She must collect souls.
She must
She must
She must
…and on she’ll go.
Lauren doesn’t linger long.
A girl, tall among earthlings and small among stars;
a comet, burning and chasing and plummeting.
Don’t worry, she’s protected, she’s guarded.
She wears a colander shell of confidence.
Glowing gashes of insecurities in places she’s been singed.
The fire burns her raw, it burns her honest.
It burns her strong-minded and strong-muscled and strong-suited.
And weak-willed.
You’ll see. Too easily. Provided you can keep up.
Keep up. She wants you there.
Look up. It’s in her eyes.
Floating among the fire: two ice blue lagoons.
Swim past the irony. You’ll have to go deep.
Sunken, shipwrecked, steadfast - there is her softness.
Flowing fast, her kindness.
A phonograph whirlpool croons her greatest hits.
“Welcome” and “Feel It” and “Me Too” and “I’m Here.”
“You Won’t Drown.”
“I Love You.”
She’s a swollen blue heart overflowing with each fierce beat.
Filled to the brim with friendships and family and fulfillments.
She wonders how a fountain ignites a flame.
Who will brave her elements?
Wildfires don’t wait around.
But watch for her smoke signal.
Meet her where she shines brightest.
Fire, you’ll think. Beautiful.
Posted May 6, 2019, 8:03 PM UTC
I really liked your language/word choice. "swollen blue heart overflowing with each fierce beat," adds such a dynamic mood to the poem.