Beauty Unframed author Lisa Elmers writes about life, loveliness, and seeing something where you thought there was nothing.

nocturne b

nocturne b

The last voices harp

over the blue fields

and babies begin now

to rub sleepy faces on chests


(Everyone, everywhere awaits

— or dreads — the two yellow 

headlights, cresting the drive)


In the TV room now toddlers droop

on couches and on the floor 

young women with syrupy heads 

young men with spun-sugar heads

nod at the violet light, flipping cards


Teenagers squat on inked knees

smoking behind the shed

white-blue-white-air, brief-orange-tip


(They’ve stopped wanting

or hating the red taillights

that glow on the gravel road)


Mothers stare out of kitchen windows

arms lathed in soap — wondering 

when they became the kind of women 

who stare out of windows washing dishes


The blue fields shrug

with human emptiness

offering their silence


then sleep. 

Take Only Pictures

Take Only Pictures

The world takes us with its silence

The world takes us with its silence