Belgian Skylight

White-gray blank,
Featureless square of sky
Fancifully bordered
By rime-crusted leaves,
Cold season’s marzipan.
Within their whispered crunch
I hear my mother bless,

‘Alive to every every moment.’

Curled up alone
Washed by echoes of rain
And silences that hold the restless clock
I strain against that foreign sky,
Her words, those leaves.
I feel the gears click by.

***

Margaret Winikates is a writer and museum professional from Boston, MA. She writes poetry and fiction as well as Brain Popcorn, a blog on interdisciplinary education. She majored in English Literature and Language at Harvard University and studied poetry and composition with Peter Sacks and Douglas Powell. Previously published short stories, essays, and poetry can be found in Zetetic: A Record of Unusual Inquiry, all the sins, and Window Cat Press, among others. www.mwinikates.com, @mwinikates

Read Margaret’s essays on taking inspiration from other artists and museums here.

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