Pandemic Poems - APRIL 2020
Author's Note: These times certainly encourage me to be present to the moment in front of me, to the signs of the past and unguaranteed hope for the future, the presences and the separations, and so this aubade came out of such a recent moment.
Aubade for the End of the Beginning of a Day in Which We Wake Together, Apart
In a bedroom of old things – a cedar chest that was my aunt’s, a yellow star quilt her mother pieced with perfect bird- like stitches, a little box needlepointed (winter cardinals in bright red) by your sister back when she still could, a blue patchwork from another sister, a black walnut dresser with three long drawers and polished brass bail-pull handles that my father rubbed to an eternal glow, sheer white curtains like my mother’s mother hung in a room with tall windows – I wake into a pond of slow receding shadows and starts of sunlight falling on my face, your scent in the sheet, warm and still, clutched in my hand. Both of us now old ourselves, nobody will see these treasures after us. I hold the sheet against my cheek, breathe the sweetness, long and deep.
©2020 Rebecca Ellis
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