In the Bright House

by Liza Katz

In the bright house, we marvel through the glass
that filters evening's last light. Summer's ending.
You move discreetly, but leave a trail of color:
a ring of sunflowers that springs from where
you'd left seeds for the birds, pencil sketches
taped to doors, yarn that bursts from the folds
of grocery bags. Later, I'll picture you
at the table, knitting needles interlocked
with fingers. Secretly, from your hands, an itch
or tremor, an urge to make your work prismatic,
a wish to radiate from every corner:
burnt umber on the stove to warm your hands,
cerulean to beam from the flame, chartreuse
to mitigate the kettle's treble cry.

Liza Katz's poetry and essays have appeared or are forthcoming in Poet Lore, Omniverse, The Critical Flame, The Quarterly Conversation, and Open Letters Monthly, among others. She lives in Boston, where she teaches English as a Second Language.

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