Somewhere in these sheets
flowers open and fall with memory.
Air cries with your scent and I wonder
have I swallowed you whole
in an attempt to breathe, set myself free?
Have I multiplied inside my bone
need? Simple need to hold
the flesh of you, contours
of skin on flannel sheets
watch a rose open, close.
water covers a multitude of sin.
Leads black ants to their death
lures spiders from their webs.
And if your flowers are dying,
if color has begun to fade,
brown has entered a stem
stir in the sweet water
watch new life begin.
In the time between day
and night I become wind
move past open curtains
fly the distance to your bed.
If you turn and find nothing
except the smell of green
bring fingers to your lips
drink in my sweet rain.
© T.E. Ballard 2002
Virgin Mary Takes a Ride
Bio: You may find more of Teresa's
work in IBPC January 2002; The Butcher's Daughter, The Melic Review, Pierian
Springs, The Poet's Canvas, Ella, Gumball Poetry, The Green Tricycle,
Mentress Moon, The Writer's Hood and in several other ezines and print
journals. She is currently at work on her first book of poetry which is
due out the first of next year.