Spinning Plates

Spinning Plates
After Michael Ferris Jr.’s “Nora”

Nora, your hair grown
long, gilding your hip
with gold and rose quartz.
You plait it around your head
like a crown to helmet the
coiled scrolls
radiating from your skull.

Nora, your body streams graffiti,
skin white and blue and green.
The sea
rolling and rippling –
live like wires.

Nora, your skin bottle glass greens,
targets circle your cheek
as if rippling the grass waves
of vibrating,
windblown
Stonehenge –
A hexagon, a halo
held within such a familiar geometry.

Nora, your face possesses
a symmetry
supported by a line-drawn
scaffold as if you alone can build the sky.
From left to right, Nora,
you follow the sun
revolving around you
like a dizzy, dizzy spell.