laughter by tolbert

it’s as if you still smiled…
and your glasses were crooked just like they were yesterday

some said your plaid wool skirt was out of place,
but i thought it was you…
in a bed you never would have chosen.

it occurred to me that they closed your eyes
not because you would watch what was happening,
not even because you might cry.
they closed them for me, that i would remember the true color—blue.

when i see me, i see you. you never laughed much.
today you looked more like a child
than you had in thousands of previous yesterdays.
i suppose peace does that to a body when all sins have been confessed.

i wish i could ask you why, just so i could speak to you again.
at night, when the world is quiet, i try to hear your laughter
but it is still foreign, i heard it much too seldom.

i listen to the wind…tree branches brushing against the window…
and i pretend it is you, singing a quiet melody, a serenade into morning.
when the lid closed, your worlds separated like the wake following a boat
and i didn’t see you again…but i know you are there. i hear your laughter.

THE OKLAHOMA REVIEW Volume 8 \| Issue 1 \| Spring 2007	Poetry
Print version Janet Butler Death in the Mountains LeAnna Covalt A Few Days after Your Fiftieth Birthday Pagosa Springs Roger Jones Long Ago Dream of a Bad Love Affair Coming Attractions, 1960 Jason W. Selby Love in the Time of Colonialism Noel Sloboda Surfaces Cuts Uncruel Salesman of the Quarter tolbert ghosts Anne Whitehouse Blessings IX Curses II	tolbert laughter it’s as if you still smiled… and your glasses were crooked just like they were yesterday some said your plaid wool skirt was out of place, but i thought it was you… in a bed you never would have chosen. it occurred to me that they closed your eyes not because you would watch what was happening, not even because you might cry. they closed them for me, that i would remember the true color—blue. when i see me, i see you. you never laughed much. today you looked more like a child than you had in thousands of previous yesterdays. i suppose peace does that to a body when all sins have been confessed. i wish i could ask you why, just so i could speak to you again. at night, when the world is quiet, i try to hear your laughter but it is still foreign, i heard it much too seldom. i listen to the wind…tree branches brushing against the window… and i pretend it is you, singing a quiet melody, a serenade into morning. when the lid closed, your worlds separated like the wake following a boat and i didn’t see you again…but i know you are there. i hear your laughter.	Home Nonfiction Fiction Poetry Contributors Staff and Guidelines Past Issues Links Cameron University
	The views expressed in The Oklahoma Review do not necessarily correspond to those of Cameron University, and the university's support of this magazine should not be seen as an endorsement of any philosophy other than faith in -- and support of -- free expression. The content of this publication may not be reproduced without the written consent of The Oklahoma Review or the authors. © 2007 The Oklahoma Review