Blue Woman

The grackles on a wire
are puffed twice their size
beneath slate skies
that promise a cold
that climbs into your bones
and curls in the sinew.

Winter days
and I am a blue woman
in a blue sweater
struck with memory
that coalesces
with my breath.

Ice on the panes
and a memory of snow
on sepia streets
and I am far away
in another place,
another time,
with a blue girl
who dreams
of the sub tropics.

I want to reach back,
reach in
to that blue girl
with a hard heart
that still can be broken.

The southern winds
will thaw you,
the sands burnish you smooth
and the tropics will
slip around
quiet as a prayer.
The sea shall
take these memories
like an offering.

But blue girls
and black birds
all fare the same
on cold days.

On frozen mornings
there are grackles on a wire
too chilled to fly
and I am a cold woman
with a blue heart
too sad to remember.

Jan 12, 2010
Kristen Gilpin