Rosalind Kaliden: “The Secret’s Always in the Snapshot”
THE SECRET’S ALWAYS IN THE SNAPSHOT
—from Paris Street; Rainy Day, 1877, Gustave Caillebotte
The rain’s veil washes color into gray.
The acute angle of the intersection,
countless cobblestones, a flayed armadillo skin.
Its multi-chimneyed apartment roof
guards the flatiron building
like the crocodile’s crenellated mouth.
Its brick exterior softened into straw,
the brilliance of light from her pearl earring.
The couple shares a new-fashion umbrella,
black domed silk over metal ribs,
the shell of the giant tortoise,
who carries a century on its back.
The couple’s focus is on the painter.
Clotilde’s fur-trimmed jacket, her hat,
the veil over her eyes and lips holds in so much.
His blond mustache, wide bow tie,
coat open to the rain
is half the balance between them.
Rosalind Kaliden has had poetry in Caterpillar in Ireland as well as The MacGuffin. Her chapbook, Arriving Sideways, was published by John Gosslee Books.