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      September 21, 2023My Wife, Sewing at a WindowEithne Longstaff

      Image: “Seamstress” by Lily Prigioniero. “My Wife, Sewing at a Window” was written by Eithne Longstaff for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, August 2023, and selected as the Artist’s Choice.
      Spring wanes
      and as is her custom
       
      she pulls the dusty
      cover from her Singer
       
      and sits at the window
      to fashion cotton,
       
      sprigged with tiny
      roses, into tiered
       
      summer skirts
      for whichever
       
      grandchild wants one.
      Time stretches like
       
      the elastic she holds
      and I recall a trip
       
      to Rome where,
      laughing, we fell
       
      into a church
      as raindrops slid
       
      from bare arms.
      In a dark side chapel
       
      we clattered coins
      into a metal box
       
      and the space lit up
      with a yellow glow,
       
      revealing a Caravaggio,
      just for us. She said
       
      he has painted the light
       
      and we stood
      and marveled.
       
      Then our ninety seconds
      of illumination was over
       
      and we stepped back
      into lives that were all about
       
      where to next, and
      our house will be blue.
       
      Now she is the old
      master and as she works
       
      light ripples her clothes
      and crowns her head
       
      with cirrus. The rose
      fabric is stippled
       
      with thorns and I see
      only where the light
       
      falls to make her perfect
      and dare not look
       
      to the room’s dark corners.

      from Ekphrastic Challenge

      Comment from the artist, Lily Prigioniero

      “Although the seamstress in my painting is my mom, I related to this poem in many ways, especially regarding the passage of time, a major factor in choosing this one among many. The images at the beginning are vivid and easily approachable in their present-tense setting; then there’s the transition into a past memory with the simile, ‘Time stretches like / the elastic she holds / and I recall a trip / to Rome …’ We are then brought back to the present by tying the Caravaggio experience of light to ‘Now she is the old / master ….’ This time around, however, the passage of time feels heavier and more mysterious, not only because the rose fabric is ‘stippled with thorns,’ but because we are given a glimpse into the future with the poem’s powerful last line ‘and dare not look / to the room’s dark corners.’”

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