"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