Travelling Standing Still/The Enamel Girl

by Genevieve Taggard

THE ENAMEL GIRL

Fearful of beauty, I always wentTimidly indifferent:

Dainty, hesitant, taking inJust what was tiniest and thin;

Careful not to careFor burning beauty in blue air;

Wanting what my hand could touch—That not too much;

Looking not to left nor rightOn a honey-silent night;

Fond of arts and trinkets, ifImperishable and stiff

They never played me false, nor fellInto fine dust. They lasted well.

They lasted till you came, and thenWhen you went, sufficed again.

But for you, they had been quiteAll I needed for my sight.

You faded. I never knewHow to unfold as flowers do,

Or how to nourish anythingTo make it grow. I wound a wing

With one caress, with one kissBreak most fragile ecstasies. . . .

Now terror touches me when ISeem to be touching a butterfly.