by RC deWinter
—for Wallace Stevens
The opulence of the room
defies the inner man.
Your words, skyrockets
lighting the dark with
flashes of the unexpected,
escape from a corridor
herding your vast bulk
into the province of alone.
The hand caressing
satinpolished wood
receives no acknowledgment;
ceramic is cold on the flesh;
the life you want hangs
in baroque frames,
reminding you of all you traded
for the promise of a love
that faded long ago.
The narrow bed barely contains
your giant’s body full of
Pennsylvania dreams never lived;
this feast for the senses
is a beggar’s banquet for the heart.
RC deWinter’s poetry is widely anthologized, notably in New York City Haiku (NY Times, 2017), Now We Heal: An Anthology of Hope (Wellworth Publishing, 2020), easing the edges: a collection of everyday miracles (Patrick Heath Public Library of Boerne, 2021), The Connecticut Shakespeare Festival Anthology (River Bend Bookshop Press, 2021); in print: 2River, Event Magazine, Gargoyle Magazine, Meat For Tea: The Valley Review, the minnesota review, Night Picnic Journal, Plainsongs, Prairie Schooner, Ogham Stone, San Antonio Review, Southword, Twelve Mile Review, Variant Literature, Yellow Arrow Journal, The York Literary Review among others,and appears in numerous online literary journals.
