• Kate Godin

Wild Emily

Updated: Jun 18

You kneel in the

kitchen garden—

white dress

blue shawl

bare feet—

on a Sunday

free of services

save for warm

gingerbread

and the prayer

of bees

for you know

and I know

both

a solitude

of sea

and the power

of Vesuvius

are more

easily

found

at home.

Well,

the keepers

of your story

denied

your earthy

defiance

and erased

your love

for Sue.

They had

their agendas

and I have

mine

but it’s simple:

connect.

So I drive

to Amherst

early

under silhouette

portraits

smudged

by the

thumb of god

against

a brightening

sky

that shade

of blue

whose fingers

undo buttons

and laces.

This sky

was made

for lovers,

for tumbled hair

and tousled breath.

I will sit

in your parlor

with your words

in my mouth

sweet

entanglement

of thought

and feeling.

There are no

recluse

spinsters

here.


Photo by Esther Chilcutt

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© 2020 by Kate Godin