grazing among the lilies.

on the front porch

i fold myself prim into the rocking chair,

i cradle a butter gilded fried pie in my hands.

does my husband know

that i think of you while i eat —

that i wonder if your flavor

changes with the seasons,

slipping from peach to dusky apple?

do your sighs smell like cinnamon?

no, he doesn’t know.

and:

if he sees that my eyes glitter,

he will blame the exuberant cedars

or

the melting decay of the autumn sunset.

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ELISHEVA FOX is a poet, her work has appeared in Berru, Allegory Ridge’s poetry anthology, Aurora, and elsewhere.