Issue 164, Winter 2002-2003
Too late. The phone had stopped
ringing, but already the narrow bottle stood
on the table, the water in it reflecting
the rug on the floor as orange. Thinking
the unknown caller would try again, I lingered
where I could see the orange
pressed against the green stem
of the iris in the bottle, and the yellow blossom
to be behind the bottle expanded
and nestled between
an iris leaf and the reflection
of the leaf—the silent caller is generous.
The reflection moves around the shoulder of the bottle
the leaf itself as it travels up
the neck of the bottle just to its lip.