We wander, my husband and I.
Can’t keep track of time, lose
hours, lunch late afternoon, sleep
through dinner reservations.
Children are everywhere,
riding bikes along gravel paths
in Parc Monceau, shrieking
glee in the Tuileries.
A visit to Rodin’s sculptures.
We walk through the house, tall windows,
pale walls, high ceilings.
Rooms filled with marble carved
into bodies, random arms and legs.
We drink coffee at cafes, sip wine
dark as a bruise. Sentences
fall apart. Sometimes we smile.
Sometimes we laugh, a sound of rust in air.
–
Valerie Bacharach’s writing has appeared in Pittsburgh Poetry Review, The Ekphrastic Review, Talking/Writing, Rogue Agent, and Vox Viola. Her second chapbook, Ghost-Mother, will be published by Finishing Line Press in 2021. Her poem “Bach Trio Sonata #6 in G Major” was nominated for a Pushcart Prize.