Gift
A hundred years ago or more
Young hands smoothed new fabric,
Traced the brocade's blue vines
And counted thick etchings,
Planning great things for this pillow.
She rolled four velvet tassels
Herself, delicately stitching
Gold to the perfect seams.
She waited in white,
Eyelets at her neck
And eggshell buttons
In the firelight.
Her favorite chair kept
Its plain luxury through the night,
Made her fingers swift
In expert loops. She waited and worked
As the warm room
Chilled, then went to bed
When it was done.
He came home to this pillow.
He saw her first but lay down
To rest on the glowing blue,
The burnished gold sifting
Across his cheek. He touched
Where she had touched,
And all that made his absence
Real disappeared.
Copyright © 2002 Khadijah Queen
