Picture of a House There are several V’s in my daughter’s drawing. One is a gable and the rest are birds flying off into the spiky yellow sunset she’s coloring in on the kitchen table. From where I sit opposite her, writing a check to the Hartford Federal Mortgage Corporation, the birds are houses, and the house is a large bird, a vertical triangle from eaves to ridge, ready to take off at the drop of a letter, rooftop flapping over the treetops to Hartford, Connecticut… I sign the check as she signs her picture in the bottom right-hand corner, and the birds migrate softy into my hands as she gives me the house. For keeps. No strings attached to the birds which could also be houses, or the sun which could also be time running out, going down like a diminishing crayon stub still eking out, incredibly, enough yellow to warm a house thirty years. Paul Hostovsky Paul Hostovsky makes his living in Boston as a sign language interpreter. His latest book of poems is Mostly (FutureCycle Press, 2021). He has won a Pushcart Prize, two Best of the Net Awards, and has been featured on Poetry Daily, Verse Daily, and The Writer's Almanac. paulhostovsky.com
1 Comment
David Belcher
3/29/2023 09:42:22 am
Cleverly observed, I thought, just picking out the important details; and the generosity implied at the end, emotive.
Reply
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
The Ekphrastic Review
COOKIES/PRIVACY
This site uses cookies to deliver your best navigation experience this time and next. Continuing here means you consent to cookies. Thank you. Join us on Facebook:
October 2024
|