Woman in the Archives
Berta Morgan
You did not go away.
I smell your scent here
Among the faded books
And crumbling manuscripts.
I feel your companionable touch
On my shoulder
As I carefully turn the pages of your letter from Elizabeth.
I see you considering your reply
To her letter
Laughing at the joke she made about her Dean.
You chose the violet ink
And lavender paper, now yellowed
And lost in some other room like this
At Vassar or Wellesley, or perhaps Chicago
Where the others linger.
But you are here
Waiting as though you knew I’d come
Looking for you,
Reading your half-finished sentences
Ferreting out your secrets.
Piecing together a life long forgotten.
A life like mine.
Cauldron Anthology
25