We’re sat opposite each other. She’s drowning milky foam into her coffee. I’m telling her about this poem, has this imperturbable street. She looks up from her coffee. Stares at me. Yeah, imperturbable. What does it mean, she says. I admit I didn’t know either, so I knocked bits off the word, first “im”, then “able” … like those archeologists picking at bones in that plague pit in London. They learn lots picking at bones. If it’s a man. A woman. Childbirth from a pelvis. Fused skull. Scars on bones. So anyway, I’m picking bits off that word, ended up with “perturb”. Figured it was an annoying street. Turns out it’s not that at all. It means relaxed, calm. The foam’s disappeared into her coffee – she takes a sip and says, I don’t really like poetry. I reply, we all go in different directions.
dVerse Prosery: 144 words including the phrase “We go in different directions down the imperturbable street,” from the poem “An Aspect of Love, Alive in the Ice and Fire.” by Gwendolyn Brook. ©️ Misky 2020