Landscape of Small Hours

by Tamsin Smith

 

1 a.m.

I am aroused

by dark remembrance

a small child sniffling

unconsoled and forgotten

on her school stairwell

while I remain

a single chair floating in a garden

uncertain where to turn

the mess I’ve been working

paint stroke and dab

to push without losing

the something it already has

— its outlined life

without backing or place to rest —

would detail make it any less

recognizable or out its anomaly

there in the middle of nowhere

intrinsically smearing hints

of the nature of things

for the little girl wails anew

she too is reworking

from the inside

I hang my head

from the window call out

again but still she can’t hear

it’s so late or too early

to sleep in peace

might I place her

there with hints of mad flower

and green upon the seatless frame

light as sky lighter

than linseed or wishing

one’s own abstraction

could save the bees

or those we cherish

 

 

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