Until the Cattails Sway by David Spicer

What’s your favorite fruit?

Victoria asked. The japonica 

when I wear a kimono in my 

bedroom above the courtyard, 

I said. Now, when I taste my 

first bite, I hear moths murmur 

to her dances, dream of the cemetery 

under the moon and watch headstones 

tease their namesakes in the ground. 

Caisson horses wait while she 

struggles each night. Where to now,

I ask? Chemo’s teased her long 

enough as she wheezes its promises, 

and I may as well listen to Procol 

Harum sing Christmas music 

than watch her grip the bed rail.

Or remember that nobody escapes 

the mausoleum after unlocking

the mansion’s door. Now, with no 

japonicas to remind me how much 

she aches, even as I watch butterflies 

and geese share the sky, I pray I’ll 

never surrender until the cattails 

sway, telling me she’s free.

David Spicer, the author of one full-length collection and four chapbooks and the former editor of raccoon, Outlaw, and Ion Books, lives in Memphis with his wife and two Maine Coon cats. He likes to binge watch crime shows, listen to singer-songwriters, and obsess about poems.