5″ x 7″ Woodblock print on Somerset paper
with Graphic Chemical bone black ink, then
hand colored with acrylic paint.
Her soiled satin pumps are out of place,
transparent images in window glass.
She moves along the rain-washed concrete walk
and gently twirls her single gillyflower.
She’s Rosalind. Carnations are for other
days and times. The paper banners screaming,
“SALE! MARKDOWNS UP TO 35%!”;
the clothes; the jewelry carefully arranged
on hairless, alabaster mannequins;
the New York style deli: neon, pink
and purple spelling intermittently
PASTRAMI; Canon’s auto-everything;
Danielle Steele; all are disregarded as
she smells her flower absent-mindedly
and softly uses it to stroke her neck.
— Coffeehouse Poets Quarterly