The Missing Sense
Published in
Jan 12, 2024
A Poem by Robbi Nester
In the last, lost painting of Rembrandt’s
Common Senses, one that I imagine,
three figures fill the frame, another
medical scenario. In the center, someone
spoons thick liquid into an old man’s mouth.
The patient grimaces, bemused that anything
reputed to be healing should inspire such disgust,
while what he craves (hot rum, fatty joints of beef)
will likely kill him. Beside him at the table,
a small child gnaws a heel of bread, layered
with sweet butter. He likes its heft, the crackle
of the crust under his teeth. I share his pleasure,
savoring the thought that an artifact of the imagination
could reach us through the senses, make us dream.
