I sit by the window staring out.
The light, I think…
falling on my face is perfect and gray Northern light:
I am a Vermeer tableau.
I wish that you were sitting
across the room from me.
I should be holding something of
tin glazed white earthenware
covered with petal like brushstrokes
of that unmistakable muted cobalt blue
that only the really old, expensive pieces have.
I want this so that when we go
to the and see Delftware
aquariumed behind glass
and those serene Dutch interiors
labeled and arranged and
preciously leashed in on long wires
you will know why we belong there.
You would not even have to think twice,
you would just know:
"This is the cool northern light
on her pearls like your pearls
and light like that falls
on her linen and her wool skirt
like it falls on yours.
That plate is decorated
with the Delft blue of my eyes."
You will know why these un-things
are all our own priceless
museum pieces, identical and meaningful:
the still life we lead in our own museums.