the artist

by Leah Mueller

for Hana

Backyard plastic easel

with three paint tubs,

all in primary hues. 

Overhead, a nest of

newly hatched sparrows, 

mother circling with nourishment.

You, barely out of diapers,

on a rainless spring afternoon.

I lead you behind the house, 

toddling as if blindfolded. 

Spotting the gift, 

you stare with bewilderment.

Sheets of white paper

fastened with a plastic clip.

Sturdy paint receptacles, 

filled with bright, viscous liquid. 

So different from 

the hardness of crayons

grasped in quivering fingers, 

needing sustained pressure 

to make straight lines.

You lean forward, 

extract brush from paint, 

peer at the foreign object,

and turn your gaze towards me,

asking for permission.

“Go ahead,” I say.

Open-mouthed, astounded,

you apply brush to canvas,

as birds circle overhead,

and our entire yard

fills with color.




Leah Mueller’s work appears in Rattle, NonBinary Review, Brilliant Flash Fiction, Citron Review, The Spectacle, New Flash Fiction Review, Atticus Review, Your Impossible Voice, etc. She has been nominated for Pushcart and Best of the Net. Leah appears in the 2022 edition of Best Small Fictions and was nominated for the 2024 edition. Her two newest books are "The Failure of Photography" (Garden Party Press, 2023) and "Widow's Fire" (Alien Buddha Press, 2023). Website: www.leahmueller.org.

Previous
Previous

2 poems

Next
Next

dolls