Honeysuckles for my sisters

by Diane Sahms-Guarnieri

Scattered perfume    hypnotic scent
breathe white-charmed blossoms
wandering vine, which like you, we grew upon

rusty fence days of step and climb –
as children again, we each pick a curling swan neck
trumpeted petal, pull out stem through broken base

drop of nectar’s kiss tantalizes each of our tongues.
All our tomorrows were far away as constellations
oasis of dreams’ expansion infinite as promise.

If only we could have known of hereafters
of impending doom, of those who would
suck honey from our bodies, dews despair.

Only if we could have seen sickle moon omen
felt evil winds blowing from unknown futures.
We were set up - like the demolition of a house of cards

fall of the last dominoes on a worn out pathway.
We served our time. Those tenacious wedding bells,
pulled ourselves out from under the gauzy veil.