~ S.H. ~

Her eye in profile, lips pursed, then open, looking

steadily from one face

to another, and starting to laugh – small

shadows of pleasure crossing. She could be

any girl at a party, unsure of how she got there

(in the first place) but not uneasy. The fluctuating

colors of others’ talk meets her

steady quiet and softens, wanting

to make her laugh again, see her

ghost-like solidity quiver, almost break

into crescent moon still wearing plaid and turquoise, chaste

lips, knowing glance, her smile writing

to someone across the room, and whether

he can read or not, she is unsurprised – her longing

not a currency she wastes, but a warm creature she tends,

slender fingers delicate on your shoulder

and on the handle of the door. When you think

she is about to leave, she leans forward, asks you a question.