"amber"

i hear her whisper


when the wind moves the drapes


see her nightgown


in its moving folds




she’s not here anymore


and yet


she is somehow


a shadow of a memory


somewhere in my mind




i never knew her


saw her


save for the


black and white


in the hallway


turned to amber


never heard her voice


only the rustle


of the wind


though greyed wooden shutters




but in the fold of the curtains


the creak of the floor


the pattern of the tired


catchpenny wallpaper


i have come to know her


as a part of this house


and i see her here


everyday.




—edited by jennifer kunze