A poem for Québec
Words on stillness
delights
A poem for Québec
- In stillness Québec flowers.
- Like the first shot of espresso
- or your last kiss of the morning
- and perhaps even after
- a perfectly placed line-break,
- its flavor rolls and multiples,
- grows and expands
- the way words and sentences
- do over full-stops and commas,
- the longer you linger.
- So linger a little longer.
- Come to the realization
- that tourists and citizens
- are all the same
- when they meet your gaze
- at the windowpane.
- Listen to how the children speak
- in footsteps and foreign tongues
- and still find each other.
- Notice how even grief
- is content to waif and flâneur
- along the cobble-covered streets.
- Later, when you’re meeting someone
- for the first time and their hands
- are already all over you,
- convincing you that
- You are a silly American
- and this is how we will bridge
- the distance of language,
- you are ready to surrender.
- Later, when you’re mouthing
- your goodbyes at the bus stop,
- you are ready to depart.