by Fabrice Poussin
It was early yet as darkness embalmed the air
the last coyote to roam the land howled at the approach of the sun
and those multicolored winged creatures began their daily serenades.
I sought the pillow once more in the warm comfort of my dreams
hugging the dense fog caused by a soul cradled in the arms
of the one who still arbored a most engaging smile.
Now another day is about to collapse under the weight of those hours
but the memory of your touch remains vivid as your quick amble
leading me through hallways where there is nothing but glee.
You looked upon yourself as you sat in your nightdress
soon to wear the suit that you made glorious carrying
with you the confidence of one who trusts that she matters.
You reminded me of details I may have forgotten
pointing to signs of what we were to accomplish
painted on the walls we still called home.
As a new evening nears I feel a second skin upon me
and it looks as if you robbed me of my bones
made a home for me inside your chest.
Now I cannot be but at ease in this haven
in which you hold me ever reassuring
and cares for me… simply…
***
Poussin is a professor of French and English. His work in poetry and photography has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and hundreds of other publications worldwide. Most recently, his collections In Absentia, If I Had a Gun, and Half Past Life were published in 2021, 2022, and 2023 by Silver Bow Publishing.