Lorena Axman Freed
He Imagines Me
A face from a car window, a portrait's eye,
The voice of a wrong number, the quick grin
Snatched into hindsight from a passer-by
And how that player held the violin
Imply Me for a wink of time and pass
Into the field of anybody's guess.
Not as a monk sees heaven stained in glass
Nor Isis making love from ripped god-flesh
Beside some girl who was the night's best beast
He wakes and gropes with hands around Not Me.
Dawn comes a summer ruffian from the east
And time prepares him for insanity.
Song of the crowd, of wintry flower and sun,
He must discern Me in the unison.
Bio
Lorena Axman Freed is a poet living in her native Ohio, and received her BA in English from the University of Rochester. She enjoys gardening, gaming and playing paintball. She is glad to have become a morning person without the aid of coffee.