Sunday, July 12, 2015

To a Friend Now Dead by Alarie Tennille

You live so vividly
in college memories
that I promise

your husband photos
that never existed.
I search my album.

You were there…
and there…not more
than eight feet from me.

Behind the camera’s eye,
too shy to be the focus
of attention.

I forgot our game—
how you would turn
just as I snapped.

I always lost you behind
a black silk curtain of hair.
I lost you again tonight.

First published in Touch: The Journal of Healing

Alarie Tennille ( serves on the Emeritus Board of The Writers Place in Kansas City, Missouri. She’s the author of Running Counterclockwise and Spiraling into Control. Alarie’s poems have appeared in numerous journals including Margie, Poetry East, I-70 Review, Southern Women’s Review and Midwest Quarterly Review.

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