Laura

    by Diana Cole

Her face, leeched white by the window

or illness. Her breath, a humming-

bird darting from a cage of fragile bones,

feathers the air. So fast the heart-

wings, almost invisible.

A ruby throated laugh, low and hearty,

a good times laugh out of cancer's reach

rises above the birring away of body.

A fluttering heart lifts her up

one more day, up to the lip of life.

Perhaps a bead of nectar clings

inside that brazen trumpet —

to be held, to be dressed once more

by familiar hands of fifty years,

to hear the whispered

"sweetheart."

Not to relinquish.

Not to forsake.

© 2011 Diana Cole

Diana Cole’s poems have been selected for publication by numerous journals including Sahara, Blueline, the Tipton Poetry Journal, The Aurorean, The Christian Century, The Chaffin Journal, Slipstream, and Avocet.  Her poem, “Though I Walk,” set for double chorus by Thomas Stumpf, won the Pharos Music Project’s award and was performed in New York City.

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