Poetry by Marjory Woodfield
THE GAZEAfter a painting by Vermeer: Woman Writing a Letter, with her Maid
My father painted once. I remember
ships, children, fish, flowers on
white tiles. His blue stained fingers.
The kiln. Not so far from here.
The morning he visited our home
I was chopping vegetables. Knife
still in my hand. His black cloak,
white shirt, fine lace collar, steady gaze.
I’d separated the vegetables. Leeks
beside turnips. Onio...