elizabethlevett

These foolish things remind me of you.

Just in the same way

that every time I light a candle

I can hear in the back of my mind, Hail Mary,

just by accident,

whenever I slice a perfect red tomato and place it on my plate just so,

or lace up the brown boots you used to love,

or pick out an incomparable sweater,

whenever I spread goat cheese

on warm, sour wheat toast

or put cream in a pitcher

because it’s so much nicer that way,

whenever I stir a little honey

in rich coffee instead of sugar

(vetch honey, you called it Kvetch!)

or when I smooth out clean flannel sheets

or look through a catalog and linger over the pages showing cashmere,

whenever I bite into an open-face sandwich

of bacon – just the idea of the bacon you said –

or lox – an abundance of lox,

so delicate you could read the Times through it –

or add a little milk to make the eggs whip up

just that much creamier,

whenever I arrange yellow and white freesias

in that green vase from Mexico,

I can see your eyes smiling

and I have to wonder how it is

that you are always with me, but then again, you’re gone.

Elizabeth Levett

August 31, 2017