Quill & Parchment: Three Postcards from Paris

Three Postcards from Paris
by Maja Trochimczyk
inspired by the watercolour paintings of Ron Libbrecht

1. The Tower and the Crane

See?
I bought
my Eiffel Tower
From a bouquiniste
On the shore of the Seine
Near Quai Voltaire,

After I filled my eyes
With the splendor
of La Sainte Chapelle
An orgy of royal fleur-de-lis

Stained-glass rainbows, cranes
And ravens carved into the floor,
Medieval creatures waiting for a sign

to spread their wings in flight

Exhausted
by history I look for
a bench not smelling of urine

Under the sky’s pure crystal
Watercolor birds from the pages
of Audubon stop me – should I get the crane

For a blessing of long life?
Or a kingfisher? Hopkins said
They “catch fire, dragonflies draw flame”

To each their own – I pick a poster
With the flags and balloons of the festival
Stainless-steel joy at the 1889 World Fair

It will not outlast the stone carving
Of beaks, claws, and beady eyes
Destined to outlive me
and my paper Tower

2. A New View of Pont Neuf, Paris

It is not that I do not want to rest here
on this greenest of grasses
in the shadows of massive branches
of London plane trees, platane commun,
maple leaf planes, Platanus hispanica,
it is just that my geography is as confused
as that of the tree – Polish, Canadian
Californian – everything I see
carries multiple shadows of things remembered
doppelgänger of memories
like that park with a sandbox and benches
by the Zoo in Warsaw where we ate white clouds
of candyfloss under the poplars
discussing the shape of spots on the neck
of the giraffe and hippopotamus’s awful teeth

3. Paris, October

On the way back
to the Institute Polonais
not far from the twisted flames
where Princess Diana died
in the tunnels under Pont d’Alma
I walk by a maple and a young oak
Encircled by wrought- iron fence
an oasis of gold and bronze
among the streets, cars, metal rivers
of the 16-eme Arrondissement

Sales are brisk at Chanel and Versace
during the Paris Fashion Week
charcoal and diamonds are in style
the black-clad models look indifferent
not one of them dressed
in the splendor of lilies
the richness of autumn leaves

I wonder

Sheltered by sunlight,
we find refuge from cosmic wind
And the gnashing of teeth
In the darkness outside

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