Vase with Autumn Asters
... women in the twilight, women often already over thirty, up to fifty, such a dim, mysterious corner.

A shadow settles behind the vase,
its tight waist, the rounded hips.

Stems beginning their bend.
Overripe rouged petals

press against each other —
a mournful humming.

The women I have loved
grow old in separate rooms;

white blooms twirling across the floor,
my ageless brides.

Copyright © 2009 Carol Dine All rights reserved
from Van Gogh in Poems
The Bitter Oleander Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission