Shadow
Ethan Fogus

Under the maidenhair tree
shaded in the bars of limbs.
In the rye grass we kissed,
and melted like shadows.
Once in the shaded limbs
I brushed her locked hair.
Now, I talk to the shadows
and wait by the cellar door.
No combing her brown hair,
and kissing in the rye grass.
Please, return this shadow
back to the maidenhair tree.


Return to Spring 2012 Table of Contents