gifts

She took her key out of her pocket and opened the door to her apartment. 

It was one room. 

There was a holey sofa that pulled out into a bed with a small table and a lamp beside it. 

Three books were on a bookshelf made of a cut board and two concrete blocks against the wall. 

An ancient transistor radio was in the corner. 

A painting by Jasper Johns of three American Flags, one on top of the other, smallest to largest, was on the wall. 

It was a gift from one of her regular customers at The Scrambled Egg.

The room was simple and beautiful, like her.

She picked a small book of poems from the bookshelf, Brown Eyed Poems.

She turned on the lamp and sat down on the sofa.

She stretched out her legs in front of her and opened the book to the poem “An Ode to Feet.”

When her feet 

were in the soil,

they were part 

of the land, 

they held the secrets 

of the earth, 

they knew 

the mystery -

seed,

dirt,

water,

sun

become 

a bean In a pod,

a kernel on an ear 

of corn.

her heart was in her feet, 

her heart was in the land, 

her heart 

was the mystery.

Her life

 spoke, 

"Estoy aquí, 

I am here.”

- trevor scott barton, gifts, 2024