Page 106 - TheBridge_Vol16

INVISIBLE SHAPE

Rilee Granger

I tilt my head
like a puzzled dog
equally confused
by the painting before me.

Shape upon shape
layer after layer
indiscernible.

What is the shape of love?

The shape of a babe
on her father’s shoulders.
The shape of
intertwined hands
as they pass me by
on this empty shape of a bench.

The shape of a goblet
sipped by a sacrificial carpenter
surrounded by friends.
The shape, known as the “Holy Grail”
by time turned myth
only visible to the worthy,

invisible to me.

Doubting the myth.
After all,
paintings try so hard
to convince

they are made of anything
but paint.

Vol XVI | 93