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Vera Kilgore Heilig: Her Poetry Lives (2017) H. Morris Williams, Marie Law Haire

Nonmetamorphical

Snuggled into a soft cocoon of warm blankets,

I dream, and shut the facts and figures out.
Cocoon? Not really. I will not come forth

To lift myself on velvet wings
And sip the nectar from erotic flowers.

I will creep out, the same dull grub
And inch from branch to branch

Gnawing the leaves.

Portrait

Your eyes were lit with little flecks of gold
As is a mossy sun be-dappled pool.

Your voice, chattering of gay inconsequentials,

Rippled and broke in sudden little waterfalls of laughter.
Yet I have seen you instantaneously grave,

Your mouth and eyes gone tender

With the sudden magic of quick sympathy.
I heard somebody say your very soul

Was warm with gentle friendliness
And your heart was like a quiet harbor after storm.

You were — oh! What more could I say
Except that you were you?

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