the rooftops I see from my window, a church spire brave against the sky—
it was the view from the fourth floor balcony of Vestergade 23,
buildings swirled away in dimming snow.
The day I was early to class, and she was early to class:
the two of us alone with the city.
She stepped sure through the window to me, touched
my shoulder. I pulled my scarf down and away
from my lips to say, what a beautiful morning,
and she agreed.
It wasn’t just a beautiful morning; looking at her
against the soft dove sky, it was a beautiful view.
We looked for the sun behind its barricade of cloud cover,
we looked for hooded crows, grey and black, pointing for each other.
I sensed her eyes on my cheek though we stood shoulder to shoulder,
taking apart the paradigm by proximity.
Peeking through the haze outside,
I woke thinking Denmark was here, that I was there,
not knowing, at first, how many years had passed.
—
Darwin Pappas-Fernandes works in the Publishing industry in New York City. She graduated from Smith College in 2017, having majored in English and American Studies, with a Concentration in Poetry. Writing, and writing poetry in particular, has been a passion of hers since childhood.
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