RWB Workshop Poem of the Week – May 23 – The Red Wheelbarrow Poets

Poem of the Week 5/23/2017

John Barrale

Her Cat in the Window Blue With Rain

I remember
her cat
in the window
blue
with rain,

and slow April mornings,

the pages
of her
favorite books
turning
on the table,

breakfast scant

like her robe
printed
with flowers,

the taste of cigarettes,
and black coffee,
sharp,

the sugar brown
and stirred in
with a white
plastic spoon.

I remember
her legs
dangling
over the edge
of the bed,

and the small
whisker sound
of nylons
pulled off
and on,

and the shyness

when she showed me
the broken china
she collected
and kept
in a box.

I remember
making love
on her
November-colored
rug,

her lace
and oyster
taste,

and the moon
coming through
the window

with its light

pale

on her belly.

I remember
Rue St. Denis
in December
covered in ice
and snow,

and the café
like a shiny miracle

open

at the bottom
of the hill,

the thin stems
of the wine glasses
twirling,

the bottles of wine
lined up in rows
so formal
and French.

I remember
her happy face
sitting across from me

and the bowl
of onion soup
we shared,

she closing
around
her pleasure
like the petals
of a flower,

she simple,
and there,

her face like her life,
creased with dreams.

Fifty years later, and old dogs
loose in the heart
still sniff
at memory.

I wonder

does she ever think
of me?

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