Secrets in Her Hair

Suppose she were trying to say come
but the bridge fell under just then
and the wrens hid in the willow reeds.

He opened her thighs and knew right away
something about still lives and frozen
on his fingertips tasted more than
years ago the loss.

There were tremors in the evening.
There were secrets in her hair.

You could hear the lamp crashing.
The one with the pretty couple
all starched and fancy probably
from some other country.

When he said yes and tender, she looked
frozen. He said tendrils, dahlias, the light at
the sea and slipped himself into her. She was
cold but words were warm winds.

Looking into her eyes he saw the deer
at the salt lick, startled. Knowing some yellow terror
smell of footsteps rifles all this he saw and more.

A swing creaks. Someone hides. Coral roses lusty
bushes on the side of the house. No one would know
from such horticulture, the cracked glass inside.

Words were roses peaches cream is this are you?
Silence was galloping behind her nobody nobody.

Bio: Elaine Zimmerman is a policy leader for children, an essayist and poet.  Recent publications include poetry in Lilith, Caduceus, The Peralta Press, Visions International, Urban Spaghetti, New Millennium, Dreamworks, Long River Run, and three anthologies, Everybody Says Hello, Sleeping with One Eye Open and Worlds in Our Words-Contemporary American Women Writers.  Honors include a Pushcart nomination, 2009 finalist for the Philbrick Poetry Award and Honorable Mentions from the Anna Davidson Rosenberg Award, CT River Review, and the Israeli Poetry Peace Prize.