Eccentric Chandelier (After Erin Belieu's The Hideous Chair)
bursting into a million hues, worn
out in places, blown glass,
displayed by massive untouchable bubbles.
perfectly so, unusual.
I stare with delight, wonder, awe,
to whom do I owe the thanks,
for an art form like this.
I cared for it,
disregarding any poor remarks.
O let the eccentric chandelier
hang! For the struggling musician
with nothing but a fender and a cardboard sign;
for Amber at shop and save;
for the tired mother of six,
swapping hair dye and shears for diapers and sippie cups; and Tim Gunn,
striking, expert of his craft, style. For Gizelle and Layla,
flowers in their hair, paycheck half spent in a day, and the 12th floor janitor,
who can’t help but sing along to the tune of a dull radio, the place back home,
where you feel safe and alive all at once,
returning each year, starry-eyed ,
wanting nothing but the promise of that dream you had.
Let the chandelier illuminate not only the room
But let the chandelier be eccentric,
and challenge the “cookie cutter” ideals of society,
let it be obnoxious, annoying,
utterly out of place, clashing with the wallpaper it shines upon.
If nothing else, let me gaze upon it for hours
blatantly ignoring all else which passes,
here Seattle, WA, 9 Lexington Ct.
by Julie O'Brien, age 18