Leveler Poetry Journal
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In Vain


You are the ostrich plume

tickling the wind


the peacock feather

lashed to the fan


the uncarved tusk

brandished in air


the coral drops

asleep in the Aegean


the azure kingfisher

of hairpin heartstops


the frost-tipped sable

rippling over shoulders


the amber tortoiseshell

riding mirrored waves.


You are, unadorned,

rare and adored.


Well made, well wrought.

Cruelly gone,


your face, your

eyes, your life.




Kateri Lanthier