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Anne Ryland

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The pause

after 'A Lady Writing' by Johannes Vermeer

It is easy to open with his gift.
The ripple of these pearls over the table;
soon they will play music around my neck.
And here is my neatest script:
he will dream of it, I promise him that.

My lips speak silently as I write,
they even press together at the end
of a sentence, and I confess
this returns to me his kiss, just the one,
the impression of it still on my hand.

But the true art of the first letter is how
to hint at love and brush it in
so that it lies behind the writing,
a faint disturbance in the background.

And I know that letters have colours
nudging us beyond the flow of black on white.
This one is ultramarine, extracted
from lapis lazuli, with glints of light.

I pause to gaze while my sentences seep
into paper, then I slowly sign
with all that I am.

 

Anne Ryland is taking a part-time MA in Writing Poetry at Newcastle University and is published in magazines.

Page(s) 43

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