Medieval Letter

The waxen seal to hold a letter fast—

a kiss mark on an envelope, deep red—

from me to you. You’ve always liked your bread

hinted with buttercups, their gold amassed.

Somewhere in the back of my dress closet,

I unearthed my silk. When there is silence

your voice echoes in my mind, a white horse.

Somewhere in the depth of time, the wind stopped.

Horses ran down the hill in the morning.

Holding out my palms in open posture,

I was waiting for you—the sunrise, drenched

in colour. I think of you; a bell rings.

Observing myself in the glass mirror

of time, reminds me of all you defend.

Monet’s ‘Impression, Sunrise’

The boats of Port of Le Havre pass like dreams

of a woman, verdant blue and milky;

they are flowing on salt air, still lapping

at her shoulders in ripples of morning.

Long roundabout way, she, astute, perceives

through the mist, construction of the port dock,

from inner cages, wild birds light on rocks—

the way canaries peck dry, stoic seed,

is the same way she drinks blue Oolong tea,

Opium Hill, a steeping orange sun.

She breakfasts on rye off the fishing boats,

with pink marbled ham, slabs of white Comté,

the way, in the cold water, fish tracks run,

the nets canvassing the depths; silver loads

the boat decks with thrashing, scaling bodies.

(sonnet sequences form this 15 line ekphrastic poem)

Art: Claude Monet: Impression Sunrise, 1872.