Purple ink crosses raven-shadowed blue fields crisp with frost, Monet’s haystacks mildewing quietly beneath the midnight harvest moon. In the distance silhouettes murmur, slide, and vanish through the open doors of lit cottages, the blank page, and into the tenuous space occupied by no one but Memory, darning quietly in the corner of consciousness.
Onze Lieve Vrouw Kathedraal Antwerpen
She walks above the slender candle flames,
her Child, divine, cradled in her arms
like the roses Earth offers to the eye each Spring
which look up now, blushing, to her prayerful hands.
She walks above the slim white tapered flames,
over white marble altar, silver and gilded.
Her robe of regal purple edged in gold
cannot conceal her white gown and sandaled feet.
Over white marble altar, gilded and gleaming,
She turns an eye up to the clouds
and Heaven’s rays descend to bless her child,
her prayer, and the tapered flames flickering below.
La linguiste revient du travail et essaye de cuisiner
« Bonjour la maison! Ou se trouve la famille?
Je reviens du travail et je ne vois personne ici !
J’ai un peu de faim, mais je ne peux pas cuisiner,
Alors, qu’est-ce qu’on va venir ce soir manger ?
Je ne peux pas offrir de poisson ou des fruits,
Mais je vous offre des mots, si vous voudrais m’en partager,
Des phrases fortes comme des fromages
Des adjectifs doux comme des éclairs ! »
Author Bio:
Emily K. Iekel is a recent graduate of the European Master's in Specialized Translation from the Catholic University of Louvain in Antwerp, Belgium. She earned a B.A. in Modern Foreign Languages from James Madison University in Harrisonburg, Virginia, where she also studied music and creative writing. Her poems and prose have been published in Salome Magazine, Troubadour21, The Boiler Journal, Gardy Loo, and English Teaching Daily, and in other print and online publications. She lives in Virginia.
Onze Lieve Vrouw Kathedraal Antwerpen
She walks above the slender candle flames,
her Child, divine, cradled in her arms
like the roses Earth offers to the eye each Spring
which look up now, blushing, to her prayerful hands.
She walks above the slim white tapered flames,
over white marble altar, silver and gilded.
Her robe of regal purple edged in gold
cannot conceal her white gown and sandaled feet.
Over white marble altar, gilded and gleaming,
She turns an eye up to the clouds
and Heaven’s rays descend to bless her child,
her prayer, and the tapered flames flickering below.
La linguiste revient du travail et essaye de cuisiner
« Bonjour la maison! Ou se trouve la famille?
Je reviens du travail et je ne vois personne ici !
J’ai un peu de faim, mais je ne peux pas cuisiner,
Alors, qu’est-ce qu’on va venir ce soir manger ?
Je ne peux pas offrir de poisson ou des fruits,
Mais je vous offre des mots, si vous voudrais m’en partager,
Des phrases fortes comme des fromages
Des adjectifs doux comme des éclairs ! »
Author Bio:
Emily K. Iekel is a recent graduate of the European Master's in Specialized Translation from the Catholic University of Louvain in Antwerp, Belgium. She earned a B.A. in Modern Foreign Languages from James Madison University in Harrisonburg, Virginia, where she also studied music and creative writing. Her poems and prose have been published in Salome Magazine, Troubadour21, The Boiler Journal, Gardy Loo, and English Teaching Daily, and in other print and online publications. She lives in Virginia.
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