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Elizabeth Ashe
Elizabeth Ashe received an MFA in Creative Writing from Chatham University. When not writing poetry, Ashe is a visual artist
with a poetic cat and world traveler with a garden at home. Ashe is in the process of designing a fine art gallery in
Washington, marketing a light-weight survival shelter - Mavi Cocoon - and plotting a studio and farm compound off the grid
in the desert. Her poetry has been published or is forthcoming with
Poetry on Buses by 4 Culture, the Synergy Project, Fourth
, Insert <Content>, Open Wide and No Teeth.
A Change

Your pillow marked the difference
on my bed. Roses on wine, all summer.
You slept beside me three nights a week —
enough to keep a trace of clover
and wild roses and leave
a shadow forest in your absence.

I'd come to talk to your pillow
the nights without you, let poems slip
and hang in air
where your eyes didn't rest to drink them.

On the nights you were here
we would hold hands, yours matching mine
only narrower, anxious roots.
We told stories at night after kisses
as if our lips were truffles,
about a wizard who turned everything
magenta, turned stones into doves
and enchanted a horse.

Keats knew, the way cats do.
He approved, preferred your vacated pillow
to his routine curl around my hip.

It wasn't until three weeks without you —
after I rubbed your sob-filled back on a friend's wicker couch
because you weren't ready to be with me —
that I could move your pillow off my bed.
Keats' fur had overtaken the roses,
clover and vine-tangled hair by then.

Beside my pillow,
I've dumped the contents of two purses
and one travel bag, looking for you.
Instead, Marilyn Hacker and a journal
ridicule me.
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