2 June 2003 | Vol. 3, No. 2
Today I took your lone sweater from the shelf
where once the commingling of yours and mine
found perfect shelter in our nested winter clothes.
Nestling my nose in the folded sleeves, the garment
trailed the softest scent of you, green tea and tobacco,
a musk as earthy as your November laugh.
When each evening you carried hickory, poplar,
sugarberry, and ash in heaping armfuls
for the fickle gods of warmth by woodstove,
your eyes were the same icy-bright blue as the empty torso
I grasped. Brushing the woolen-blend across the tear-worn
smoothness of my cheek, I reminded myself that you, too,
were once heat and scratch. I could not surrender
this sentiment to Good Will. Returning the sweater
to its realm of long-ago Thanksgiving, I wondered
whether I, like the browning leaves outside my window,
hung yet on a slender, brittle branch
because I could not take the final fall of left behind.
About the author:
Melanie Faith graduated Magna Cum Laude in 1999 from Wilson College, where she majored in English, with a concentration in professional writing. She is an English, American History, and French tutor at The Mercersburg Academy. During the summers of 2001 and 2002, she taught an American History course for international students. In 2002, she ventured into the world of the poetry workshop and participated in four poetry readings. Her work has appeared in The Pedestal Magazine, Facets Magazine, Ken*Again, 3rd Muse, Promise, Thought Magazine, Pierian Springs, Rearview Quarterly, Verse Libre, Digges' Choice, Free Verse, Coelacanth Magazine, Flashquake, YAWP, August Cutter, and forthcoming from Adagio Verse Quarterly, Blue Fifth Review, Artemis Journal, Loop, and Carillon. She recently completed her first chapbook manuscript.