Sunday Poem

Still Life
—static: from the Latin sto, stare, to stand.

Once there were four green apples arranged
In a simple pyramid on a white china plate.

Once a painter rendered them on a cheap canvas
That was left hanging in the kitchen of the house

She bought soon after a truck plowed through
The windshield of the car her husband was driving.

In the remodeled kitchen that still let in a draft,
After toast and tea, she would stand before the frame.

From the shadow limning the apples’ bottom edges
She could almost hear a low hum, the static of objects

Pulled through time, the slight hiss of their resistance,
The one sound when everything is standing still.
.

by H.L. Spelman