She was writing on her kitchen window
with strong, sweeping strokes inscribed
in the steamy fug
of something savory simmering
on the stove for supper.
Invisible words in a visible world
of high-rise towers.
Her scarf hooding eyes
scanning the horizon
for a danger that would come
from outside
that stuffy kitchen.
Writing, writing – writing what?
A heart-felt plea,
a cri de coeur ?
helpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpme
cursive colère...
I’ve had enoughenoughenoughenoughenough!
Or maybe she was urging
a child to recite his lessons,
lessening the confusion of living
between two worlds, two cultures.
Or maybe she was writing…
poetry, proving Fermat’s theorem, putting
the finishing touches
on the closing arguments of a case...
In any case,
she erased the inscription
with a swipe of the diaphanous
sleeve of her dress, her forearm arcing
across the window, wiping
away the evidence
before the danger
came home, came in
from the cold to scold her.
Author Bio:
Andrea Dejean writes poetry to try to understand why cymbals clang in her ears when she witnesses certain scenes of everyday life. Sometimes the writing brings understanding; sometimes it doesn’t. Although that has always been her reaction to such scenes, the clanging cymbals have had a cross-cultural note for much of the past three decades as, after having left the United States for the first time just after graduating from college, she has lived in the former Zaïre (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo), Cameroon and the French overseas department of French Guiana. A native of Detroit, she is permanently based in southwestern France. She is the translator of a book on biodiversity and has published her own poetry and creative fiction and non-fiction in both independent and university-affiliated literary journals.
with strong, sweeping strokes inscribed
in the steamy fug
of something savory simmering
on the stove for supper.
Invisible words in a visible world
of high-rise towers.
Her scarf hooding eyes
scanning the horizon
for a danger that would come
from outside
that stuffy kitchen.
Writing, writing – writing what?
A heart-felt plea,
a cri de coeur ?
helpmehelpmehelpmehelpmehelpme
cursive colère...
I’ve had enoughenoughenoughenoughenough!
Or maybe she was urging
a child to recite his lessons,
lessening the confusion of living
between two worlds, two cultures.
Or maybe she was writing…
poetry, proving Fermat’s theorem, putting
the finishing touches
on the closing arguments of a case...
In any case,
she erased the inscription
with a swipe of the diaphanous
sleeve of her dress, her forearm arcing
across the window, wiping
away the evidence
before the danger
came home, came in
from the cold to scold her.
Author Bio:
Andrea Dejean writes poetry to try to understand why cymbals clang in her ears when she witnesses certain scenes of everyday life. Sometimes the writing brings understanding; sometimes it doesn’t. Although that has always been her reaction to such scenes, the clanging cymbals have had a cross-cultural note for much of the past three decades as, after having left the United States for the first time just after graduating from college, she has lived in the former Zaïre (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo), Cameroon and the French overseas department of French Guiana. A native of Detroit, she is permanently based in southwestern France. She is the translator of a book on biodiversity and has published her own poetry and creative fiction and non-fiction in both independent and university-affiliated literary journals.
RSS Feed