Poems & Essays

09 Apr

Speaking Whistle

General/Column One Response

I speak Whistle, he said over the phone, sounding
smaller than I remembered before our separation.

Say something in whistle, I asked.

A whistle trilled my ear,
like a monarch butterfly
flying thousands of miles,
an impossible journey,
but arriving in Mexico intact
and safe.

That means, Hi, he said.

The monarch’s eye-lash legs
landed on my outstretched hand,
fluttered its whistling wings, then
lifted silently.

I miss you, I said.
No whistle.
I love you, I added.

He blew four short bursts.
Whistle words flew to my ears.
Fluttering into my heart.

Then he spoke:
That means, I love you more.

 

 

When Kara Thom is not writing about motherhood, she’s writing as a freelancer and author of children’s books, including the Go! Go! Sports Girl book series.

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1 Comment

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  1. Linda Agnelli Carroll

    April 10, 2018 at 3:58 am

    Beautiful poem, Kara, so full of magic and
    longing.

    Reply

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