(Poem by Wendy Howe )

If I could send you this moment, a book cover
guarding my secret, you would see
a woman leaning on the window sill
and between her fingers, a scarf

undulating silk
sheer as the blue, grotto water
of Capri.

Dawn frames me in this casement
of pale silence where
courage stays dormant and words
will not rise to confess --
"I love you."

Each day, it's easier to seek
a cave, to kneel under
the fireplace arch, arranging flowers
in a stone vase when there should be

nothing displayed
but a throat of ashes
stirred, uttering
her soft, honey-colored flame.

© 2011, Wendy Howe. E-mail
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