Eileen Trauth is a poet, playwright, author and inclusion advocate. She was a college professor for many years and published several nonfiction books and an award-winning play. Her poems have appeared in Common Threads, InsideOut: An Affirming Epiphany, For A Better World, The Boston Poet, PoetryXHunger and several anthologies. She is a member of the Greater Cincinnati Writers League and the Ohio Poetry Association. She lives in Cincinnati, Ohio. www.eileentrauth.com
Have you grown shorter?
I conjure up crumbling bones
beneath enemy skin, attacking
your serene exterior
that lingers in my sight long after
the rear-view mirror lets you go.
Once, we stood eye to eye
not seeing that way. Now,
your shiny head shaves inches
from our conflict. My farewell eyes
drift down your winter cheeks
to that pink hint of fear in the corner
of your smile. Through the good-bye wave
your shrunken stance glows
like February’s unexpected warmth
on the dormant earth that surrounds you:
transfixed in unusual spring,
brave shoots and you pushing through.