One of my favorite poems is about a Museum of Missing Objects.
Poet Rebecca Lindenberg begins by quoting Ezra Pound:
What thou lov’st well shall not be reft from thee;
What thou lov’st well is thy true heritage.
Lindenberg writes of empty galleries, of naked shelves and towering walls where:
You’ll find labels describing what is gone:
an empress’s bones, a stolen painting . . . .
A vellum gospel, hidden somewhere long ago
forgotten, would have sat on that pedestal;
this glass cabinet could have kept the first
salts carried back from the Levant.
To help us comprehend the magnitude
of absence, huge rooms
lie empty of their wonders . . . .
Regular readers know of my proclivity to be visited by that which doesn’t, technically speaking, exist to be seen.
This week we have been asked to capture within a frame an image of one object meaningful to us. Mine may be difficult to spot, but I promise it’s there. It’s a reflected image of something dear to me. I carry it with me every day, to try to capture some of the sights and colors of this world.
Once you identify the object, you may also see other things I see: an open, upturned palm with slender cloud fingers and a left thumb in the foreground, gently holding a lens; the wispy wings of a snow-white dove. . . .
What do you see?
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About Stephanie
In her spare time, Stephanie works full-time, and then some, as an attorney. She has published articles and delivered talks in arcane fields like forensic evidentiary issues, jury instructions, and expert scientific witness preparation. She also is an adjunct professor at a law school on the banks of the Charles and loves that dirty water, as she will always think of Boston as her home.
You are welcome to take a look at her Facebook author page, or follow @SMartinGlennon on Twitter.
All content on this blog, unless otherwise attributed, is (c) 2012-2020 by Stephanie M. Glennon and should not be reproduced (in any form other than re-blogging in accordance with Wordpress protocol and the numerous other wee buttons at the bottom of each post) without the express permission of the domain holder.
Gold capped mountains spilling down into a Glen, which morphs into a Venetian mask 🙂
That thumb of yours is quite eerie….once seen it haunts the image like a hand rising from an Arthurian lake…..
I love your writing….it’s better than the original post 🙂
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