Reverie Fair Magazine - Page 25

Works in Progress

l.slivinski

Your collection room downstairs

is a snug walk between shelves and desks

hung about with glass tubes in boxes,

marble-sized motors,

medicine vials of metal bits

and trailing vines of bright wire.

There are drawings here with footnotes,

airplanes without wings, globe shaped sculptures half built,

pieces and parts,

projects begun.

I had been meaning to ask about a few of them;

the books on chaos and complexity,

shiny drops of liquid chrome

and luminous pearls of silicone

in jewel-shaped stoppered bottles,

and the Bible I brought you

when I thought you needed it.

It looks like it’s not been touched,

but you kept it in reach through two full cycles

of my faith lost and found.

You could quote scripture and you once said that you missed the sound

of big church choirs in long robes.

There were ideas behind your eyes

when we talked about the world and its mysteries.

I could feel your wonder and it made me wonder, too,

posed questions that I knew I’d ask you later.

The mysteries are known to you now,

and you’ve been called to bigger projects.

You’ve set these earthly works in motion.

They are living things like aloe plants and kittens,

hummingbirds and grandchildren,

and when it looks like something’s been left undone,

when I’d like to wrap it up for you

but never asked what it was going to be

when it was finished,

I’ll listen for some echo of you still here,

pulling or building from your collection

some gift for the children,

or for me.

I’ll trust that before you moved on

you passed projects to us,

and that you’ll whisper to us

to compose our own treasures,

begun in your collection room.