Sheets
By Fanny Howe
After I.F. Annensky
First the sky was yellow
then white snow followed.
On a hand
was an amethyst: a cube of lilac in hospital light.
•
Whose fault is it when no one visits?
•
Last night I dreamed
I was in a peaceful place
but woke up
freezing and ashamed.
On a side street (on my sheets)
one I loved passed
as a shadow.
Maddish, reddish, his fist
clenched for a fight.
•
I recalled
his body color
being soft like a child.
The drunken nipples.
•
Honey I called.
We were too late.
God and the gods have moved
outside the jeweled air
and sun motes ...
to where a star is:
an amethyst minus a poet.
Copyright Credit: This poem was commissioned by the Reva and David Logan Foundation in Chicago.
Source: Poetry (November 2014)