• andrew jeter

And In the Morning

(from the NaPoWriMo prompt: write a poem based on an image from a dream. We don’t always remember our dreams, but images or ideas from them often stick with us for a very long time.) [Instead of an image or an idea, I wrote about a sound.]


Her voice is a play I saw

in London in the 80’s

and can’t quite remember

anymore,


like the hush and whisper

of the rain through the closed

kitchen window

this morning


or the thing you’ve forgotten

but remember that you’ve

forgotten—the phone number

or the movie title

or the smell of her perfume

and the feel of her laugh

on the hot summer night air

during the cocktail hour


before the hospitals

and white swaddling blankets

and the silent tears

I watched glide

down her cheeks

after her arms stopped

working and all she could do

was lie in the bed we’d put up

in the living room.


I must be asleep to hear

her voice now

and in the morning

it is gone.

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