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