Helen by Amanda Wenisch
I read your life like a poem to solve,
analyzing the images before me.

There I am in the tiny bathroom off your kitchen, memorizing
the make-up bottle of ivory. There I am, finding you in blue birds.
You – fair and freckled-red.
You – bruised and blackberry-stained.

There you are at the table, eating
fried fish. There you are, pleading with your eyes,
your voice
whisper-soft, to
Me – fair and freckled red.
Me – your daughter’s daughter.

You will not be condensed,
will not fall neatly into lines,
into rhythm.

All this time assigning you to objects, and you slip right through.
All this time singing you into verse, and you float right by.

Like Truth
or Love,
or God,
the poets go flying after you,
a bird just out of reach.

One thought on “Poem: Helen

  1. What a touching tribute to your grandma, who must have had a great influence on the unique and special women you have become. Your life is the best way you can continue to bring honor to her memory.

Leave a Reply to Barbara Ballard Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

%d bloggers like this: