once d.a.levy

rode with me
from maybe there to
perhaps somewhere else.

Streetlights turned
his face on and off,
left his eyeholes black.

Always gentle,
he reached across
a fine silence

and ran his hand
through my hair.

"It does," he said
out of the dark.
"It really does."

Whatever he knew
about what my hair did,
pleased him.

That was much better
than if he had said
I was beautiful.

(I would have doubted.)

But even after five years
of wondering what he meant,
I still believe him.

Whatever it was,
it has lasted
a long time.

                             - Grace Butcher



















Go to d.a.levy home page

Return to Light and Dust Poets | Return to Kaldron On-Line

This is a cooperative presentation of
Ghost Pony Press, Kaldron On-Line and
Light and Dust Mobile Anthology of Poetry