The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton
I have not been to Capistrano, imbued by butterﬂied aching
or drifted arches through Angangueo under a slow midnight sky, yet -
I have heard the motions of wings wild and benign with glory.
I have never danced in Paris or whispered in Venice,
although I have sipped café au lait at an anonymous bistro
and ﬂoated aimlessly in a shallow boat,
my ﬁngers trailing in the currents of an unnamed canal.
There were no minstrels
or ministering angels
to anchor my sorrow or alleviate my joy.
I have forgotten a thousand places -
misplaced far too many names and faces,
but no matter how aged or inﬁrm I may eventually become,
I shall never forget
the feeling of your breath discovering my ﬂesh
or the scent of your hair as you slept beside me,
wandering within these foreign ﬁelds.