What am I to say standing here at a hollow window
with my stretched arms seeking one word?
Just one. Something to begin my songs and psalms
of questions and of praise. I follow the noise of birds.
What is all this around me?
— Douglas Lochhead, Vigils & Mercies, 4
I
I met him once, pre-arranged
by phone
A charity drive.
With grace,
he invites me in.
I sit in a room full of afternoon light.
Books on low bookshelves,
brightly-coloured paintings,
a folk carving of a bird.
Creamy carpet steps, up,
to rooms beyond.
On the coffee table
his books of poetry.
We talk of fundraising, but really,
I am here
to meet the poet.
He speaks of his work translated into Italian.
An award. Seems surprised by it all.
Will he travel to Italy?
I ask.
We enter his kitchen.
Over the sink, a large window.
In the snowy yard
hungry birds
flutter at feeders.
II
I follow
the noise of birds
in early spring.
Read of his death.
On that winter day, did he
offer me tea, or coffee?
I do remember, my words, just
out of reach.
At my kitchen window
I now see
who he is — Saint Francis — with stretched arms
the words
flock to him.
About this Poem
Anne Koval has recently published with Queen’s Quarterly (spring 2016) and with Ekphrasis Journal (spring 2016). She is currently publishing a series of ekphrastic poems for the exhibition catalogue The Radcliffe Line and Other Geographies, on the work of Sarindar Dhaliwal (Rodman Hall Gallery, 2016). She teaches art history at Mount Allison University in Sackville, NB
