The Millennium Issue:
Present
Annette Marie Hyder
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The Visitation
He came to me as I lay sleeping
a gift from my dreaming mind
straight to the phantom limb
of my childhood.
He did nothing more
than sit in a chair
but how that chair preened
to have him sitting in it.
The carpet wore his feet
in ostentatious display.
I stood by his side
and his arms
sprinkled lightly with freckles
and reddish blonde hair
wrapped around me like a blanket.
I pillowed my head on his chest,
another dream remembered
from which he rescued me
with a father's store bought milk.
Thirty years have come
and haven't changed
that he is gone.
How flat the dearest face is
delineated in photo graph.
Something inside us
renders truer
if more primitive.
Look, the red crayon
made spirals for his hair
but went off the page
trying to draw his heart;
a ghost arm that can feel pain
takes up the crayon again.
~Annette Marie Hyder
Annette is a freelance writer whose credits include regular contributions to an international bridal magazine, short stories, articles, and many poems. Email.
© 2000 by Annette Marie Hyder. All Rights Reserved.
© 2000-2002 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.
This page updated April 23, 2002.