The Mending
A boy in a borrowed coat asks when manhood begins. A diver, mending rope, answers without looking up.
Reflections from the Threshold of Reason and Feeling
A boy in a borrowed coat asks when manhood begins. A diver, mending rope, answers without looking up.
Eight strokes of rice. Three lanes to the red cloth. One dumpling, kept back.
Two women. One cellar. A painter who kept her distance. A sculptor who leans in. One word: closer.
A qadi in Fez pours tea for a dead Spaniard and asks whether the sea was ever forgiven.
Tangier, 1954. A soldier who cannot sleep asks the city's most invisible man whether people are worth believing in.
A girl on coral steps. A patched sail. A sea that will not say whether the watching was enough.
A schoolgirl demands the best dish ever eaten. A muleteer offers warm bread, a step at evening, and someone gone.
In the long light of a dying shore, a father mends his net and asks what no psalm can teach.
A hangman carves his dog in a London churchyard, 1658. After every hanging, she waits for him.
The dead cannot lie. The living will. She reads what is there. London, 1630.