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Poetry by Pamela MacBean 

Pamela is the author of A Dalton View (Wolfsong Publishing) and Postscripts in Time (FootHills Publishing).  She lives in New Hampshire.



© 2005 Pamela MacBean





An amythyst dusk
drapes the sky
the Day Star.

an astral asterisk
astride the horizon,
revokes the night.







I didn't see your face, at first.  An outline of dazzling sunshine
behind your head struck me blind for a moment.
Instead, tight blue jeans topped with a green army jacket
caught my glance upwards as I twisted around and out
of the 70 Olds I had been vacuuming.

An old boyfriend from my not-so-sweet sixteen days
back from the DMZ in Korea.  Had escaped the Vietnam
era error, somewhat.  But still had suffered from
non-existant hooray's as he had descended off the plane.
A different world with round-eyed woman and
no more "Comee see me, GI?" whispers beside hooches.

As we night cruised that first day home,
"Witchy Woman" drifted from the car radio,
softly curling around our ears engraving a memory.
He had said that he had almost brought home
a tiny Korean woman.  She had reminded
him of me.

Twenty-three years later, memories lapping
at the edge of tears, rock me back and forth,
comforting in the emptiness of your absence,
your sudden passing into another corridor of light.
I'm glad you chose me.








All work is property of Pamela MacBean.


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