Emily Bernhardt

Guide from Beyond

How will I visit you? How about I come to dinner, like we used to do, and drink too much wine. You will spend the day chopping, chopping, chopping, sharpening the knife, curling your knuckles back behind the blade, dicing onions, crying, oils sputtering, picking out stems from cilantro leaves, washing grit from glassware, placing polished silver at each named seat around the table.

Here are her linens, you will say, as a puff of steam coughs from my old Rowenta. You will clip fresh marigolds into the chipped vase and not bother to trim the shaggy leaves. As usual, I’m running a little late. It won’t be until after the kids are gone, and their kids, the dishes cleared and stacked. You will wash them tomorrow. Your woozy head finds the ledge of your flowered cotton pillowcase.

Keep the window open.

 
 

Emily Bernhardt, retired from numbers and Los Angeles, lives in Ventura, California. She writes occasional poetry and strengthens her poetic practice through reading and studying from the abundant offerings of today’s contemporary teachers including Elline Lipkin, Ilya Kaminski and Jared Harel.