“This is a story about magical thinking. About coincidence and manifestation.”
Maggie Smith, You Could Make This Place Beautiful
This is the story of the poem
I wrote for my Aunt Anne
after I noticed a new painting
in her renovated kitchen
Romaine Lettuce, the painting’s called
though I didn’t know it
at the time, still life
of a summer harvest
You can imagine
soft white curtains
moving gently, morning light
through an open window
It’s a Tantillo, she said –
I love that painting, although it’s just
a page torn from a magazine
set in an expensive frame
I wrote the poem for her
before she knew she was dying,
before I knew. Wrote it because
she was a poet in search of answers
I wrote a poem for her
about a painting
That poem doesn’t matter now
What matters is what happened next
This is a story about magical thinking. About coincidence and manifestation.
Her kids held an estate sale when she died
when it was over, they gave me a key
so I could walk through the house
one more time, one last time
The house was nearly empty
except for her spirit. Could I feel her there?
Reader, I could. In the corner, propped on a table
lone painting, familiar in its silver frame, waiting just for me
KateMcCarrollMoore 