Today She is Not Here
There are things I cannot tell you
An engagement is an exchange
of intentions between two people
and the relation of two families.
At this engagement party the two young people
barely look at each other. You’d hardly know
the party was for them among the many
who have come for the food,
the ritual, the talking.
One sister is missing.
He is usually careful
not to draw attention like this.
She will be alright
for the wedding and all the photos
will show her smiling like the rest.
And her sons will be there
among the others, her sons
whom she is teaching
about softness and yielding,
as her father taught her.
Her father came to her house and looked
a little past her shoulder and said,
no one needs
to stay in a house where a man raises
a hand to his wife. Come home.
And she looked equally
long and silently at him.
And, who knows why, she said
kassie, Da, but I will stay.
And who knows if that stopped him for a while
or made him worse.
Today she is not here for the engagement.
You Do Not See What it is
In the middle of a conversation
you remember a dream
in which your dead father absently brushes
something from the side of your face
just above the brow.
The touch returns
like a rustle in your memory.
As you talk, something brushes
you gently just above the brow
and though you turn quickly
you do not see what it is.
SENTINEL POETRY (ONLINE) #42
The International Journal of Poetry & Graphics...since 2002
MAY 2006 ISSN 1479-425X Editor: Amatoritsero Ede