Observer

Museum guard

Jeffery is a security guard at the Nelson Museum of Art located in a rundown neighborhood in Washington, D.C. The museum is managed by an NGO and due to the economic recession, had to cut its staff, so he is the only guard on duty. He’s seen paintings of gumball machines and lesser known contemporaries of Monet make it on the walls, usually for two seasons, when it used to be one. He doesn’t know what each painting costs, because the appraiser and archivist, Caroline, went on maternity leave two weeks ago and doesn’t know if she’ll be back.

He’s seen all types of people browse the art, some with blank faces, others squinting nearsightedly as if they could find some hidden meaning behind a lithograph if they just tried hard enough. But silver-haired Magdelenia, who visits every Friday at two o’clock, breezes by, smiling at each piece — whether cheerful or horrendously gloomy – and greets each one like an old friend.

She speaks to them, one by one: “Hello, it’s Magdelenia again. How are you today?” and “Did you get any unusual visitors this week?”

One Friday, Magdelenia enters with plodding steps, dressed in black with a veil before her eyes. She sits down on the bench in the middle of the room, a red plush one that children like to climb over, and waits.

Jeffrey imagines that the paintings would crowd all over her if they could, saying things like “What’s wrong, Magdelenia?” and “Please smile, Magdelenia!” But they can’t, so Jeffrey pulls a napkin he saved from lunch in his pants’ pocket. From his customary corner in the gallery, he strides over to press it into Magdelenia’s hands. Her fingers feel as worn as parchment paper.

“Thank you,” Magdelenia says, and Jeffrey smiles kindly upon her.

Ice People

Blue Ice

An embrace would meld us
Thaw us and bind us
Rough edges would melt and seam together
Forever, we would be unable
To be apart
Forever, we would be unable
To find sole solace
So our frail hearts
Love with caution
So we, who shake
Love in fear

Disconnect

Living passionately, crying and screaming
I thought was the strangest inner journey
But to live with a scab upon the hurts and learn
To smile that pleasant smile which nothing can touch
A mirage like the wind and ungraspable
The caring has fallen away
And the heart grown transparent
To both the barbs of sorrow and joy
I long to be genuine in trust
I long for you to trust and be genuine