Poetry

Matryoshka

I watch you pass in a flurry of autumn,
red youth glowing orange in age—

copper cheeks cloaking doe eyes,
the memories of a loving Helios,

your nymph embroidered shoulders,
the brittle hug from which I clung

opened by age's pendulum and
the ticking of our clock hands.

Let us end time.

For your laugh, your quivering wings,
the falling wine spattered into ash.

Right now, stained in forget-me-nots, as
when you bore me and she bore you.

Stop. Can we just stay, now.

Colombine Neal