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by Sharmagne Leland-St. John

He photographs her
standing in the doorway
of their bedroom
in the villa they've leased
at the top of Via Ugo Foscolo.

They've just returned
from wintering in the islands
off the west coast of Africa.
Even though it's
still winter in Tuscany,
she's dressed for summer,
in pale violets, ice blues,

She has come upstairs
to tell him it is snowing,
"Look out the window!"

She unhasps the shutters.

The larger flakes in flurries
become white butterflies
dancing on the winter wind.

She creates a painting from his photo.
He has become her muse
and she his.

She scribbles words, phrases, syllables
onto bits of lined notebook paper,
or onto the backs of grocery receipts.
She gathers them into poems.

They read them together in bed.


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