narrated by Vanessa Kittle
In the afternoon, I lie here trying
to recapture a moment which never
occurred—an afternoon by the ocean
with an open window—breeze and sun
flowing over the bed through thin
white drapes. Outside there are
smiling busy people eating sandwiches
on boats, swimming, picking berries,
dripping juice on their fingers.
I am falling asleep, thinking of the cedar
closet in my grandparent’s old
house. It had the smell of trees
in the distance and long fur coats.
I never touched the back wall.
Day after day, I lie here waiting
for the weather to change
for a northern wind
for a sign outside or inside
for anything with sufficient weight
to bring motion to inert bodies.
Today there are clouds.
The light fades in this temple.
But beyond the clouds, there is
a wilder sky swarming with red
and golden eagle feathers.
The trees make a tunnel
over the path.
And there will be leaves crunching
under my feet.
One day I will remember
the secret word or find the lost key.
Vanessa Kittle lives out on Long Island with her evil cats, Lama and Sombrero, and her more evil partner, Erin. Vanessa is a former chef and lawyer who now teaches English Composition. She has published two collections of poetry: Apart and Surviving the Days of the Empire, both with The March Street Press. Her work has recently been in The New Renaissance, Contemporary American Voices, Nerve Cowboy, Limestone, Ibbetson Street, and A Generation Defining Itself anthology. Vanessa edits the Abramelin Poetry Journal. Vanessa has been nominated three times for the Pushcart Prize. Her first novel, Elaenorh, has just been published by Double Dragon Publishing. She enjoys cooking, gardening, and Star Trek!