ARTICULATE IN EGGSHELL GLOSS
John Alexanderson
To edge like you! Fluent as frescoes,
acrylics claimed on gallery rows.
Your steady brush enounces smooth as cream
paint whispered deep where wall and ceiling meet.
Diction slick again, clear-cut white-to-rose.
My skill? Gruff as Uncle Ole’s Flatbush prose,
mist before my first pull on life arose
in birthrooms near his tomb on Bergen Street.
To edge like you!
Worse, like my Jersey speech that smears off Os
as chocolate left on stoops in August’s glow
and grabs at consonants by random tweaks.
Fahgeddit-yoodwannanoe entreats
my rush and fumble at our cove and toe.
To edge like you!