Editor’s note: This is the third in a series of five Valentines from the wonderful Word Woman, Rosemerry Whatola Trommer. We dedicate to all the mothers in the world. And anyone who has run away from love in any form. The stone heart was shot by Rosemerry and part of her never-ending collection of shapes that say “love” in any language.

No More Chase

So she runs into the closet
and hides behind the long
clothes in the corner—bathrobes,

black dresses, a velvet skirt worn only once.
She squats there, pink sock feet
and chubby legs the only parts

of her that I can see.
I pretend that I am searching
for her, rummaging

in bathroom drawers, “Vivian,”
I call toward the toothbrush,
“Vivian, where are you?” And Vivian

pumps her knees and giggles,
thrilled to be concealed.
Until she’s done. And then

she wants, right now, to be discovered.
This old heart is quite the same—
after years of crouching in the corner,

it’s tired of the game and
it’s ready, please, to come out
of hiding, ready to be found.

One Response

  1. Lex Fry says:

    so great. all of them.