Published: 1 April 2026

your smallest scrap of paper, s’il vous plait

after a photo by Saul Leiter, “Paris, 1959”
in Paris, a café
a tiny round table
she writes on the smallest
scrap of paper available
her words must be exact
precise, capable of
economy of space
all to be accomplished
with a fountain pen

there is a seltzer bottle
there is a newspaper
there is coffee, there is milk
there is sugar, there is no
bottle of ink, there is a haze
in the air, there are passersby
because she is outside
and the light is exquisite

More Poetry:

every day I reach

every day I reach
a thousand times
above my head
for a glass or plate

your path

you cannot avoid your path
you cannot step off your path
it’s non-negotiable, can’t look away
you will see your path through

Time is the sky above us

Sunset lit wind swirls,
smells of waning days, sleeping warm.
Light eddies, tumbles in little whirlpools,
dances the future of leaves, drain of hours

History

Shimmer of birch leaves against slap of sunlight
all flicker and history, tale of what is to be
what is told. Time between winter and summer,
reckoning and memory, counting and forgiving.

The more I drink

The more I drink, the more I love my family.
Until we drink too much, then we fight and cry.
That’s not a plea for understanding or absolution,
it’s a question of what makes those you love

Mother Tongue

The mother tongue is the mother
of all tongues, including half tongue,
two tongue and ten tongue, so named
for the weight they must bear. Ten tongue

Related

your path

your path

you cannot avoid your path
you cannot step off your path
it’s non-negotiable, can’t look away
you will see your path through

read more

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