Was it his breath
that made the leaves shift?
I could see them twist,
little hearts of polished green
forced to reveal
a gray underside. Their shadows
muddied the Chairman's face
and he narrowed his eyes, struggling
to see from ours.

Blotches spread across his fine suit:
He seemed to have tumbled down
a dried-up well,
his brow lined with remains
of rotting twigs.
But his diamond ring bore
a hole through the shadow,
reminding us he'd gathered our hopeful
pennies before he inched back up.

Maria Terrone's first book of poetry, The Bodies We Were Loaned, will be published in May 2002 by The Word Works (www.wordworksdc.com). Her work has appeared in Poetry, Atlanta Review, Crab Orchard Review and many other journals. Among her awards are the 2001 Willow Review Award in Poetry and the 2000 Elinor Benedict Poetry Prize from Passages North.

 Maria

 Terrone