first narrow bars of light through the slits in the blinds…
a thatch of hair in the brush, fingernail parings by the edge of the sink…
percussive splatter of coffee grounds against the plastic liner…
slow rising sound as water from the tap fills the bottle…
dervish of steam from the humidifier whirling in the morning sun…
wallet and keys on the mantel, stray pennies, nail file, stamps…the idea of the day starts to form…
muffled sound of the shower upstairs…
the duvet, lofted, settles on the bed like a quiet exhalation…
a slick of warm vodka in the glass on the bedside table, pills in a row
~
jumping vein in the hand on the desk…
cursor ticking, cleaning lenses—waiting…
the doorknob holds my miniature portrait…
at last I catch the tail of yesterday’s work: words slowly notching the page upward on the screen…
the faint stop-start of the mail truck toiling up the hill…
wheezy protestations of the old desk chair…
a breath of warm air as I walk past the dryer in the hall…
dull buffeting thud of sneakers…
eucalyptus leaves strewn on the dark wood of the dining room table…
a pair of reading glasses, splayed, holding the sky…
leaf shadow vibrates on the wall by the front door…
wind picks up…a door claps shut somewhere upstairs…
shopping list on the counter held down by a salt shaker: breadcrumbs, eggs, cumin—the corner lifts…
sun and clouds—I see the small honey jar on kitchen sill light up for a moment…
rumpled gray throw on the couch like a sleeping animal…
~
binoculars upright on the shelf by the window…
the far corners slowly darken…
squirrel on the porch rail—an eyebrow wagging…
trees out back start inching in closer…
promotions and coupons on the bench by the door…
gloves and scarves in the basket…
the hallway mirror, split-second disbelief…
last glint of sun picks out the silver radio dial …
~
red wine shadow wavering on the cutting board…
rough crumply skin of the shallot peeled, bright glistening purple…
red onion, halved—bullseye…
abrupt whoosh of the gas…
lights on—the big windows fill with the ghost of the room…
and the evening gradually tapers…
I imagine the late-night dog-walker looking over, watching the erratic trail of our lights going out…
fourteen steps going up—I count them carefully in the dark…
_
Sven Birkerts is co-editor of the journal AGNI based at Boston University. He lives in Amherst, Massachusetts, and is at work on a sectional mosaic about the literary life.
15 comments
Karen Traub says:
Jan 19, 2023
Glorious
Steven Harvey says:
Jan 20, 2023
I love this form–somewhere between prose and poetry–built out of perceptions shaped into words. Is this part of the mosaic? If so, I’m eager to see the rest.
sven birkerts says:
Jan 26, 2023
I hope the muse arrives with more—-
Chris says:
Jan 22, 2023
Love this!
Stephanie Stone says:
Jan 26, 2023
exquisite! I love the eyebrow wagging. May I come over? I will feel at home.
MJ Vieweg says:
Feb 10, 2023
Evoked a floaty sort of mood for me… a bit of cozy at home. So much goes on at and in the home that doesn’t always register, right?
I’m charmed by so many of your lines in this, particular:
“a pair of reading glasses, splayed, holding the sky…”
sven birkerts says:
Feb 18, 2023
thanks!
Charlotte Whitty says:
Feb 10, 2023
This is quite masterful in its detail and simplicity; it’s just beautiful. (…like a quiet exhalation…; …the corner lifts…)Thank you!
Denise says:
Feb 19, 2023
I loved the pace
And never thought of not reading to the end
Some of your words made think of my home
Lovely
Ellen Birkett Morris says:
Mar 2, 2023
Really beautiful, thank you!
Helen I. Torres says:
Mar 10, 2023
nice post. thanks for share
Rahul Joshi says:
Mar 29, 2023
Thank you for writing such a heartfelt piece.
Jackie Fishman says:
Apr 12, 2023
The obvious all around us infused with light, air and dreaminess.. the everyday holds all this poetry..
Marie Daniely says:
Apr 23, 2023
Beautifully written, visually captivating. I floated through the house on your words.
“a breath of warm air as I walk past the dryer in the hall…”
Howard Norman says:
Jan 18, 2024
lovely to read this