Plum (poem 1)

It was an old self of mine who stumbled out

Onto that plum-colored sky,

A self that found its way by the chattering

Of the moths,

And who watched the changing light

Of the lanterns like the turn of the stars.

Here I am: I’ve come back to this place,

Cold as though just baptized,

With the touch of my father’s hand

Still on my head.

This is the life I had imagined!

And by that I mean that sometimes,

I had dared hope for it.

How do I tell you, or myself,

That your hand is a phantom—

A full life already lived and buried.

I never expected the warmth, as I watch

A story I had long thought of

Shimmer like clear water over rocks.

© Caroline Kelly, 2023