Sitting There
by Shaya Gibbs
An ekphrastic poem inspired by Angela Ellsworth’s “Seer Bonnet XVI (Sarah Ann),” 2010-11.
Sitting there, staring balefully
Your perfect grace reeks of insincerity
You’re not innocent
You don’t make me complete
I can’t help but imagine you obsolete.
But you’re here anyway, because it’s not up to me
(If it was, I'd probably flee
somewhere far away; a new town, a new life
where your oppressive gaze can’t cut me like a knife).
As it is, I grit my teeth
Thinking of when my mother presented you as some kind of fine jewelry
You were hers, after all
who she passed down to me.
Without my say, I might add
(I only bear the facade of being free).
The men all compliment you,
I suppose they think of you as some beautiful hue,
Something that compliments my hips, my lips, my jaw
and conveniently hides the rest of my flaws.
But the rest of us know better
Without us you would be nothing more than a beggar:
useless and simple,
about as substantial as a feather.
