Modern Sonnet 211. Beautifying Scars.
How art may have most beautifying scars;
Those rips within the smoothest surface skin
That make the passing art-observer pause,
And let the light of imperfections in
To rooms in which each blemish may attract,
Where faultlessness may fail to catch the eye,
For brushed too flat by air, true beauty lacks
The fear we feel in feline symmetry;
The nighttime, burning-forest sexiness;
The paradox that flawlessness has flaws
And what gets deemed ideal affects us less
By being all too easily adored.
How light alerts! That magnetizing view
Of you as unimprovably . . . you.
Andrew Barker
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26 май 2022
