Jeanne Emrich

                                                                                                                              

 

                                                   in the pre-dawn darkness                                                                         
                                                   a sense of the cosmos        
                                                   creating itself . . .
                                                   I wait in the kitchen
                                                   for the tea water to boil

 

                                                   long winter hours . . .
                                                   in my parents' absence
                                                   I feel the "his" and "hers"
                                                   slip away from the humidor,
                                                   the sewing machine

 

                                                   summer solstice . . .
                                                   the hint of lavender
                                                   in her empty room
                                                   vanishes
                                                   the moment I notice

 

                                                   how long has it been
                                                   since we parted?
                                                   the snow has come
                                                   and I'm learning from geese
                                                   how to fall from the sky

 

                                                   the snowbound gate
                                                   stands half-open
                                                   behind my house
                                                      that moment you left
                                                      in such a hurry last fall



                                                   we walked the beach
                                                   mother and daughter–
                                                   how I wish
                                                   it was you who found
                                                   that perfect sand dollar

 

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