Brooke Vertin, Summer Rental (mixed media on katakana paper)
In the body there is
a room
cold pressing the doors
cracking
and an iron bed
a wind between girders
and faucets
cold water where I wash
hands
in the base of the sink the drain stopper
a word
Crane
I read with each wash
the life outside, high ground
Crescent Hill
streetlight by morning first launch
five geese
into the sun rising beneath a cloud, moon
turning to dark
a sexless light, unlit lamp
behind the ivy-crowned maple
November sheared to spaces between
capillaries
where heron landed once, a pause
I’m wise
to actualize
when an anger rises but
I’m on a hilltop
there’ll be no flooding here
even the draws
frost
Artist's Commentary:
Some time ago, Sean and I decided that we would like to work together, joining poem and image. Sean generously shared several of his poems with me. I was very excited and jumped right in, attempting a more illustrative drawing for “Winter Rental,” but it felt forced and awkward, so I put the poem aside for several months and eventually came to understand it in my own way. Rather than focusing on Sean’s rich imagery, I thought more about how the poem resonated with me in the present time.
I call this piece Summer Rental and think of it as a companion piece to Sean’s “Winter Rental.” The image came to me as I was staying in a rental on the coast of Maine this June. As I was looking at the still water in the cove, I thought of Sean’s poem, and it dawned on me that my piece could be a reflection on the transition out of winter into a new season.