Bill Vander Clute



 She wants the world cold
            but this is Texas
                        in summer
brown, hot blue.

She wants the men in suits
            to have faces but
                        their sunglasses
are the eyes of movie aliens.

The movies. What was the one they saw?
She can almost see it again, now.

And what was the air like that night?
What people did they pass? Strangers now
the only link to something so ephemeral
there is no shimmer, no wavering band of light.

This was not the way the world was supposed to look today.

She wants the infant
            in the bath, the
                        squeals, splashes
smiles in the small room.

She wants a chance
            to say things she
                        doesn’t want to say.



Bill Vander Clute received a Vermont Council on the Arts grant for fiction. He teaches English and drama and is active in local community theater.


Published in Volume 7, Number 2, Spring 2006.