I am a dream, a sign, a wavering shadow
A cloud to make shapes with
An inkblot on paper

The open-ended metaphor
The vague language and the
Mirror

The paint left on the palette
After the masterpiece is finished
With no shape

The object not defined
The thing everyone looks at and says
I think it’s this

I think it’ s a butterfly
A bird
A heart

An old lady.
I see a young one.

An optical illusion
A picture with no artist to tell you what
It means

She’s an actress
A writer
A scientist

A girl

The weird one
The smart one
The funny one

And they all think
What they said
That’s all I am

They ask each other
But they never
Ask
The inkblot