Someone to Watch Over Me or Everybody Has a Favorite Tree
by Susan Barry-Schulz
—after Adam Zagajewski
I met the angel of long silences at the library. We hadn’t seen each other in years. I blushed a little. We talked about old times, came up with a list—our personal Mt. Rushmores—of the best-smelling books of all time; my George Washington, the 1956 hardcover edition of A. Lamorisse’s The Red Ballon that I checked out from the Tonawanda Public Library any chance that I could the year I turned 8. Warm sunlight streaming through ambered windows, polished peaked tables, an unlimited supply of ice-cold water from the silver fountain down the hall, a sanctuary of unraised voices. [Please wash your hands before you read me.] The angel of long silences is proud of me when I tell them I’ve deleted my Tiktok and LinkedIn and Facebook and Instagram and Messenger and Substack accounts. The angel of long silences has been there for all of my beginnings. They don’t know about BlueSky and I don’t bring it up. Later at the beach, the angel of long silences stands next to me in the cold. Across the lake, a handful of ice-fisherman sit motionless in the fog at the edges of the dark holes they’ve created for themselves. We admire their form. At night the angel of long silences lies next to me in the warmth of the electric blanket. From my bed I can hear the frozen lake calling out to me in a language I don’t understand. The body translates what the mind cannot. The angel of long silences has been there for all of my beginnings. Everybody has a favorite tree.
Susan Barry-Schulz is a first generation Estonian-American who grew up just outside of Buffalo, NY. Her poetry has appeared in Heron Tree, The Westchester Review, SoFLoPoJo, Stone Canoe and in many other print and online journals and anthologies. Her work has been nominated for Best of Net and Pushcart Prizes.