Text
“Exultation is the going
Of an inland soul to sea,
Past the houses – past the headlands –
Into deep Eternity –”
—Emily Dickinson
Westwardbound, toward Winslow,
haloed in lime-electric
bathroom glare, the mirror’s
tea-green twin stays
locked in her stale stare.
Woman and reflection edge
closer to one another,
scrutinizing, running
fingers through their hair.
There—
under straw-gold strands,
new silver twines,
yellow darkening beneath,
shadows in a summer hayloft,
aspens curving over
willows in November.
She will grow to love
the other color, love
this ferrying of youth
to age, will abandon the mirror,
return to the window, watch
waves brighten with sun
then turn dark, see
seagulls race the boat,
heads empty of destination,
just flying. Just flight.
Previously published in Poetry and Poetry Daily.