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...