Self-Portrait as Smudge
Being this cloud on the otherwise
transparent pane, I resist removal,
smearing myself in thinner layers,
still shrouding the angry sky
or the fence post’s sagging
doubt, which is to say
my appearance may lessen
but spread, that you may rub me
out, but I’ll return, always,
beginning with that one small
and delicious obscure point.
“Self-Portrait as Smudge” first appeared in October 2019 in Backchannels. Many thanks to the editors for taking this piece.
O at the Edges 
It’s a great piece. And your choice of illustration is perfect.
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Thank you, Leslie. Sometimes I feel like that door…
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Another perspective – smudge as the rite of passage into spiritual circle (usually done with burning sage moved around head and body of one being smudged by a spiritual shaman uttering perhaps-indecipherable prayers) – a cleansing and an acceptance into circle. Your poetry (albeit w/o smoke) has a similar effect – drawing inner poets into your poetic circle. Perhaps I’ll light some sage now … Please DO keep returning with “delicious obscure point(s)” …
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Who says staring out windows is a waste of time? Ha!
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Reblogged this on Becoming is Superior to Being and commented:
This poem does something for me, hope it does the same for you. — kenne
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Thanks for reblogging this. Much appreciated!
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Today, I’m going to read this in the literal sense. ‘d love it if only smudges showed up out of nowhere on my windows. As it is, the dog’s nose leaves more than the telltale trace, LOL. Happy Saturday!
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I once had a bulldog who drooled while looking out the window. There’s nothing quite like dried bulldog drool. But fortunately it was at knee level!
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Well penned, as always 🙂 I missed your words, Robert… hope all is well
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Thanks very much, Nicole. Welcome back. All is as well as can be expected. I hope you’re well.
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