Poem November 2023
When the preacher’s son told me
my aura was part halo, part rainbow,
I saw him see me
appeared instantly and everywhere
smiling in the pansies,
reflecting us in the farm pond,
beside us on our bikes,
in the barn fragrant with warm cows,
glinting from the hay chaff,
the slatted light.
God touched us as we touched,
electricity in our fingers,
we were shimmery and dewy,
our skin golden, hair sun-bleached.
Angels sang in our voices.
The moon rose in heaven, love,
heaven in the moon.
— Debra Kaufman
Debra Kaufman’s newest poerty collection, Outwalking the Shadow, is forthcoming from Redhawk Publications.