Left Umbrellas 1

Resource added
Left Umbrellas

That little old lady stole mine 
(the clerk agreed)-- 
too close to me at Window 3,
hunched over her own business while minding mine,
puckered and sour as a stale lime, 
like Paris sky that day.

Other umbrellas, other skies 
drifted outside with me:
Canterbury Cathedral-- I'd left one there in '72,
Solaced by grandeur;
a series of them left me no face to blame, 
their last-look images almost dry 
beside some picnic throwaways in Kraków, 
below a Courte-Paille luncheon chair in Angoulême, 
behind a rugged airport bench in Denver,
beneath a battered taxi seat in Lagos.

My footstep slowed to change that guilty face:
better a man's, the prospect of a bigger canopy
snatched by wind and blasted to a treetop,
of spine and tines maimed in the mud,
a disappearance dear 
as William gone to war.
Instead-- a standstill thought declared--
she'd hide it in a hatbox,

Full description

Draft poem written by Emanuel, typed, where he reflects on how his umbrella was stolen. (Page 1)

Comments

to view and add comments.

Annotations

No one has annotated a text with this resource yet.

  • type
    Image
  • created on
  • file format
    jpg
  • file size
    542 kB
  • creator
    James A. Emanuel
  • issue
    BOX 5 FOLDER 6, Deadly James, draft B, 1987
  • rights
    James A. Emanuel Estate
  • rights holder
    James A. Emanuel Estate
  • version
    Unknown