by Jacalyn Shelley
After the wind’s fingertips
find their way through our walls,
after the furnace’s cold exhale
wakes us from our nestled warmth,
he pulls the comforter over his eyes,
rolls west away from the chilly
yellow shade. I follow him
asking for twenty more years.
Outside, as if igniting firecrackers,
the tires of commuter cars crack
the icy road racing toward New Year.
Still, I can’t take my eyes off
his skull. Its silver crown
snowy as my bridal dress.
Jacalyn Shelley has been published in many journals and anthologies such as Sugar House Review and Welcome to the Resistance: Poetry and Protest. She’s been nominated four times for a Pushcart Prize. You can read more of her work at JacalynShelley.com.
Hawaii Pacific Review 