by Robert James Berry


          (for Ahila)


  eyelashes dip on the open book

  She is reading

  will not look up


  The words are printing tall tales

  on the intricate lace

  of her feather hazel head


  Lean long wrist        bangles

     reach down

  Turn the page

     my page


  She rests

    then her eyes walk


  A scarlet moon is rising from

        the printed ink


  Her ankles bracelets shake softly


  This is for you to read


Published August 6, 1998
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