How the Soul Leaves the Body

Like rising from a nap
In the suffocating hour
Of a midsummer midafternoon.
On the pine nightstand, 
A Chartres-blue vase,
Its dried flowers whispering: 
"The water's evaporated."


At the uncurtained window,
A fly tapping, tapping, tapping,
The limitless green hills
Reflected in its thousand eyes.




Winner, Open to the Public Poetry

Creative Writing Contest

2000 winners