The Amaryllis
for G. M. B.
One August day, husband, you brought to me fresh
amaryllis, its cut stem sheathed in foil.
I set it on our table, in a cut-glass bowl,
was warmed by the scent of its deep, red flesh.
Past afternoon, the white clouds rolled, then crossed behind
that red trumpet culled from a ruined garden.
It seemed to stun the sunset, sounding a lush amen
for the light and the fading edges of its kind.
At dusk, the meal done, twin candles fought the gloom.
Then, dripping on hands and empty plates
a quiet, bloody weeping quelled the room.
*
Leslie Schultz (Northfield, Minnesota) has three collections of poetry, Still Life with Poppies: Elegies; Cloud Song; and Concertina (Kelsay Books) and two chapbooks, Larks at Sunrise: Light-hearted Poems for Dark Times (Green Gingko Press) and Living Room (Midwestern Writers Publishing House). Her poetry is in many journals, including Able Muse, Blue Unicorn, Hawai’i Pacific Review, Light, MockingHeart Review, Mezzo Cammin, Naugatuck River Review, North Dakota Quarterly, One Art, Poet Lore, Third Wednesday, The Madison Review, The Midwest Quarterly, The Orchards, Tipton Poetry Review, and The Wayfarer; and in the sidewalks of Northfield. Her work was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2017. In 2020 she served as guest associate editor for Third Wednesday’s Winter Issue. In 2021, she will serve as a judge for the Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest. Schultz posts poems, photographs, and essays on her website: www.winonamedia.net.
