Day washes over my mother’s house.
When I open my eyes, light will stutter
into the room, pockmark the wall
with promises. For now, though, there’s just
the world tattooed under my lids,
its fluid hieroglyphs offering
work, walk, sun-dappled street,
talk on the bus, shop windows, men
and women, jacaranda pouring silky
petals on the paving stones. Life’s not great
but it can be good. In a momentary lapse,
as if carried away by its own diorama
of everyday grace, it even calls forth
my father, restless behind the wheel again,
dapper in clothes long donated
and stirring my phone up to hurry.
Laura Chalar was born in Montevideo, Uruguay. She is a lawyer and writer whose most recent poetry collection, Unlearning, was published by Coal City Press in 2018. Her short story collection The Guardian Angel of Lawyers was published by Roundabout Press in 2018.
The Ekphrastic Review
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