By X.J. Kennedy
Toe after toe, a snowing flesh,
a gold of lemon, root and rind,
she sifts in sunlight down the stairs
with nothing on. Nor on her mind.
We spy beneath the banister
a constant thresh of thigh on thigh;
her lips imprint the swinging air
that parts to let her parts go by.
One-woman waterfall, she wears
her slow descent like a long cape
and pausing on the final stair,
collects her motions into shape.
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Wednesday was as lovely as Tuesday, though we had a weird day in the neighborhood, since the parent company that owns our apartment complex announced that it had just been sold to another company (the massive Greystar), and all the employees of the previous company were leaving as of this afternoon. We chatted with neighbors about this unexpected change, said goodbye to our wonderful handyman, and went in to meet the new staffers, who seem nice but there's obviously going to be a period of transition about everything from the online payment system to requests for maintenance.
It was otherwise an uneventful day around here. I chatted with my high school friends in the morning while the Mariners lost to the Phillies again, had a bagel for lunch, and watched the end of the first The Hunger Games: Mockingjay movie and start of the second with Kristen. We took a walk to the park and on the dock -- no otters today -- before dinner, after which we watched all three hours of the third season of Fisk, which was very enjoyable, funny and touching at once. Here is some of the work we saw at the Bellevue Arts Fair a few weekends ago:
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