Emily Isaacson

"Discover poetry through the eyes of Emily . . ."

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The Lace of Shadows

It was a clear night in Toronto.

The moon shone unto the wood floorboards

like a delicate child attempting a waltz.

The young Madonna cleared her throat,

and the canvas paused,

the brush stroking her finery back into position.

The water faucet trickled—

some water for her head, her face,

even the array of plants

created an oasis against the darkwood.

Now violet and watery,

her eyes glanced about, turning into huge rims.


Astor, in his eloquence, the loft his backdrop,

struck a medieval chord—

he painted on canvas

the Sainte Maria model,

but a street woman with long mahogany hair,

who stood on the corner.

Under a lamppost it worked

exceedingly well in moonlight,

so he lit a candle in the window

and kept her up all night.

Straight and tall, she reeled,

orchestral and divine, and

his mother’s dress did nothing

to faze her simplicity. 


--Emily Isaacson, "Maria Model" (Hallmark 2017)

The in and out of a door closed

in the convent of St. Clare,

a clear and vestal melody,

and heart unopened, sealed.


The Assisi dome’s echoing nave,

the basilica, a mighty monument to freedom,

the thatched roof and poor hearth,

a dissident league away.


The beautiful banquet, set,

the fire of a heart without reprise—

to find a kiss,

just close your eyes.


--Emily Isaacson "Remnant" (Hallmark 2017)