from FLOWERS ON A TRAIN

new book coming this fall from Sheila-Na-Gig Editions

 

Sketchbook of Delft 

after Johannes Vermeer's "The Little Street (View of Houses in Delft)" 

 

Brick buildings dawdle and door frames 

can be counted on for their white paint 

in the soft air of February, and a few leftover 

 

thorns grapple up two stories. In the corridor 

a woman bends with her broom, hips 

shimmy side to side, then freeing her hands, 

 

she picks up something she's found. Shutters 

of the house are closed. I sit across the street 

at a metal table with salt and pepper shakers, 

 

napkins pink and blue like my children almost 

born. A bowl of salad hums with citrus 

segments. A couple forks each other portions 

 

from their plates as if they've spoken 

each other's words in a ceremony, and I wonder 

what kind of wedding cake they ate. 

 

Most of my trips here have come with rain, 

chasing make-believe translations 

since I don't know the language. After lunch 

 

I walk past a mother sitting sideways 

on a park bench combing her daughter's hair, 

fingers separating long brown waves 

 

into braids. French accent, consonants lightly 

touched. I think of yesterday when my mother 

told me the news. Count how much longer 

 

distance can provide indemnity against 

my father's diagnosis. Or is it immunity 

from red tulips sold in corner stands 

 

that will make everything right. How much 

longer will he live with the knowledge 

that I disobey his advice? One rain drop 

 

then another. Any minute small gaps 

will fill the alleyways of afternoon. 

​

(published in Pirene's Fountain Review, Winter 2024)

image: Megan Merchant "Garden" (USA) 2024