flesh of silk and snow
naked as a fawn exposed to winter,
draft seeped through window
that cast a lemon block outside,
pages before her with ink that began
to merge,
precious silent thoughts
lifted to starry skies,
sorrow had not brought it’s shadow
her eyes strong enough to look into
the fire and show innocence,
telephone rang
the artist whose heart moved in spirals
waited with canvas and sable
and when snow retreats
and fireflies waken
she would stir to his caress,
till then entwined with knowledge
of youth and biology
lessons planned for each week
distraction long holding
avoidance to all things carnal
despite prick of skin
and clamor of heart,
she would wait as others too waited
and beneath soft auburn hair
decisions would be made
Jamie Wyeth Monhegan’s Schoolteacher
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