Window Seat: Providence to New York City by Jacqueline Osherow
My sixteenth egret from the window of this train, white against the marshes' shocking green cushioning Long Island Sound from Kingston down to Mystic against the shoreline's erratic discipline: the egret so completely still, the colors so extreme, the window of my train might be rolling out a scroll of meticulous ancient Chinese painting: my heart- beat down its side in liquid characters: no tenses, no conjunctions, just emphatic strokes on paper from the inner bark of sandalwood: egret, marshes, the number sixteen: white and that essential shocking green- perhaps even the character for kingfisher green balanced with jade white in ancient poems- every other element implicit in the brush strokes' elliptic fusion of calm and motion, assuring as my train moves on and marsh gives way to warehouses and idle factories that my sixteen egrets still remain: each a crescent moon against an emerald sky, alabaster on kingfisher green, its body motionless on one lithe leg, cradling its surreptitious wings | |
Copyright © 2012 by Jacqueline Osherow. Used with permission of the author. |
Poetry by Osherow Whitethorn: Poems |
0 comments:
Post a Comment