“Wind Chime,” by Elizabeth Camilletti
Rusted Wind Chime
A deep, raspy New Orleans jazz
Its staccato notes shoot up my pulse
My legs shiver from that long, wavy vibrato
Born-again in your love, I cry like a baby
Yearning to be nestled in your bosom
Or so you desire.
But then there’s a cry in the distance
You open your eyes and think it’s me
A whimpering kitten calling out for you
But only the rusted wind chime
Swaying outside your door
jingles by itself.
Naylet Leon was born in Havana, Cuba and lives in Miami, Florida. She graduated with a Master’s degree in literature from Florida International University. Besides teaching English at Broward College, she is also a poet and freelance photographer.