Landscape with the Fall of Icarus
(after William Carlos Williams)
Most days I would tell you I feel like the peasant
scratching his ass at the bottom of Bruegel’s painting,
perhaps thinking of the apple in his pocket.
But once I felt as Bruegel must have--
that attention must be paid.
It was the day in March my first parent died,
the day my father died.
Rushing across the street to the assisted living,
cell phone in hand, spreading my news,
unreality increasing with each retelling,
an ordinary, faceless day turned singular.
Unconcerned, the children and nannies in the park
played around the fountain, workers from nearby offices
carelessly tossed away their sandwich wrappings.
Daffodils elbowed their way hopefully through the thawing earth.
Eileen Ivey Sirota
Eileen Ivey Sirota is the author of one chapbook, Out of Order, published in 2020 by Finishing Line Press. She is a psychotherapist, potter and poet who has come late—but enthusiastically—to the party which is poetry. She lives in Bethesda, MD where she has been hiding out from Covid, tolerating Zoom and similar technologies, and writing.
2/16/2021 06:09:18 pm
Lovely and earthy poem by Eileen Ivey Sirota. We each go about our separate lives. The touch of hopefulness at the end is a gift.
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