Photo by Igor Spasic
Sometimes I want a life unseen, above the bookstore,
a small life, lined with shelves of novels and poems,
a life of sinking my hands into soft, grey wool,
a knitting project, the needles clacking.
At the window, snow pelts, in falling light,
the blackbirds that arrow eastward, across
the bay where the lighthouse flares its fan.
A small life, such as the one in which stew
bubbles on the stove and there is a wooden table
set with two bowls, two spoons, two mugs for milk
and thick napkins, white and folded. Bread bakes
while steam from the kettle clouds my glasses.
You know this life, the one I want. It is devoid
of clatter, of clamor’s insistence. Instead, it is
a life of red rain boots poised at the doorstep,
of a handful of friends and good lines in the writing,
a life in which the postman, huffing up the stairs,
hands me a packet of letters bound in cotton cording,
their messages tender, of good hope and cheer. A life
worth its silence, its simple, sacred yearnings.
Pia Taavila-Borsheim‘s work has appeared in or is forthcoming from The Adirondack Review, Southern Humanities Review, 32 Poems, Tar River Poetry, storySouth, The Southern Review, Duende, Measure: A Review of Formal Poetry, Birmingham Poetry Review, Barrow Street, The Broadkill Review and Ibbetson Street, among others. Poems have also been included in such anthologies as Deaf Lit Extravaganza and The Bloomsbury Anthology of Contemporary Jewish American Poetry. Moon on the Meadow: Collected Poems 1977 – 2007 was published by Gallaudet University Press in 2008, while a chapbook, Two Winters, was released by Finishing Line Press in 2011.