|Cheryl Snell||The 2River View, 7.3 (Spring 2003)|
Your voice pooled around my common senses.
A pulse jumped under my blue-veined skin.
At the rehearsal, Mother in her flatline calm
We sat there glumly, holding back her hands.
Before this devolves into a narrative of hindsight—
Right beside the rigid Mary. Right under your lucky dice.