Posts Tagged ‘protection’


She keeps it in a wooden box

between soft layers of cotton —

the arrowhead

he found in the desert.

It still bears his fingerprints —

invisible, like the many poems

she composes in her head

but never writes,


poems she sends

across the valley

hoping they’ll lodge

in his dreams

some heavy night.


She imagines them

circling his body

like halos of concentric light,

or perhaps brushing his face

with kisses

silky as a feather.


But then, like the arrowhead

she draws them home again

tucking them safely away —

sonnets nestled in her soul

between reluctant layers

of silence.



© 2014, 2020 Betty Hayes Albright


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