The Envelope Room

by Maya Pindyck

You forgot all your bags
sneered the administrator.  Embarrassed

I gathered my gym bag filled with sneakers,
my knapsack packed with cardigans and, finally,

my purse.  I would have left everything there
but items are valuable.

Two doors down
my mother sat in the Envelope Room

attending a lecture by Nancy Spero.
Nancy passed around a waxy Tibetan envelope

beautifully painted—a landscape—
broken at the flap.

In order to see the painting in its entirety
someone had to seal the flap.

It seemed an impossible task.
Either everyone forgot how

or they were simply afraid
to lick.  Brave Mother volunteered to lick it

shut,
completing the painting (the fire).

Ha, I smirked,
turning with a militant gesture to my nearest friend.