Talking 4



Talking with my mother in an empty house


the room is alive with light
a halo of sunny sainthood
gilding old furniture

rich gold sunlight
sparkling with dancing dust
enhances silk flowers

polished scarlet tongues of fire
call for your presence
yet you are absent now
I am the one who dusts them
and adds to their gloss

 do they still throb vibrant
 in the early morning light?

 indeed they do
dust rises from your poinsettias
and dust angels dance in the sun

how many to each leaf?

 I bend my head to look
and sense dry leaves brushing
rough lips against my face

17 thoughts on “Talking 4

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