why it was only a few short years ago, he said
when you were just a slip of a girl

but now I am the eternal flame in your hearth
the buffalo chip of your home fires

and I’m watching my back
watching my step
letting them move all the way in
as I watch the closing doors

and I’m watching my weight
minding my manners
watching the river flow

and I’m scanning the horizon
waiting for sunrise

waiting for you to change your mind

for the tipping of your hat
the changing of the guard
the next big thing

my lucky break

and I am waiting to strike
until the iron is hot

and I’m searching for the apple that’s ripe
the ever-bearing orchard
the inevitable circus tent where you will be the one
who is jumping through the many-colored hoops

of fire

and it makes no difference

to the crust of the earth
the flow of the tides
the course of events
or the face of history

but I am waiting for the avalanche
that is bound to release me
and I know that it is coming
any day now

any

day

The poem is “A Slip of a Girl” from my illustrated chapbook no angel: the rock-and-roll icon woman who just wasn’t anybody’s mother, created in October 1994.

I started working with the idea for geometrical abstracts on Friday, April 3rd. Today, I was ready to name the chosen pieces for this post, when fragments from the poem flashed into my memory. Now, the text is a prelude to the art. It’s always an interesting trip.

Words and images by Catherine Rutgers © April 2020