Marilyn

You stand by the window in your nightgown, caught off guard.
It is late spring; the afternoon sun casts a warm, sharp shadow
Your dark brown eyes, from within a pale, ashen face look toward me.
Who are you, they seem to be asking.Italian brunette
and I find myself longing for you.

Your father on the sofa, beckons me to sit down,
“Espresso,” he says, nodding at the cup.
Your sky is mottled, cloudy

We shiver together, gently like an unchained gate in the wind.
I watch you standing there, your nightgown like a waterfall surrounding you

“You remember your cousin, Aunt Anna’s boy, don’t you?”
She nods and leaves the room.
My sky is parted, spotted dark blue

Marilyn

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