Still Life with Light Drift

after Spencer Reece



When the river has turned into a flickering constellation

When the streets’ historical bricks darken under our feet


When the restaurant’s window awakens with miniature stars

When our uncomplicated chairs are pulled from the table that is now our table


When the candle pulses its notification

When the waiter’s blue apron, workers in their kitchen, the refracting lines


Of silver knives in the glassware tremble and tune themselves

We begin to say thank you in different ways to each other


We place the brined and oiled olives in our mouths, their memory of

sea and volcanic ash now inside us


Outside the moon waits like a lover’s back in the night and we lay the menu

of wines to the side


The old Italian walks over to us, places his large hands on the shoulders of our chairs

He begins to announce the things he has saved in his head for us


Our throats open a little, for all the specials

Those we know, and those which are new



The poem borrows its first line from the text statement about Light Drift | Mural Arts Program by J. Meejin Yoon of MY Studio.

Originally published in Escape Into Life.