a woman peeling apples, with a small child
straight off the blade she hands
it over her small hand the long peel for divination
the long peel hissing like a boa constrictor how long
it must take to dress the daughter in all of her
gathers & kirtles & caps
her pinafore pockets full of oyster shells yes
what she can't see what hurts her eyes & like a genre painting I'll include
the image of another painting or a mirror
or a dog
how Vermeer preferred women working alone
how this also uses natural light in an otherwise unlit interior
when the old woman peels apples she's surrounded
by circles & keeps her book in good light & when
she is young it's a rich brocade steady hands
a hairband & a little jut of thought in her jaw (see also dutch quiet )
Copyright © 2014 by Pattie McCarthy. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-A-Day on February 13, 2014. Browse the Poem-A-Day archive.