They always love the wild ones best.
Up on the trapeze your sister, trailing scarves,
Tosses diamonds to admirers below.
Your mother gushes
Hand to her heart,
“That’s my daughter!
So talented. A natural!”
Meanwhile, you wait:
You’ve been here before,
You’re prepared:
Arms outstretched to catch her,
Pillows, smelling salts,
Ready to make things right.
At work, your boss spins visions
Of solar systems,
Leaves the petty details of Creation
To you.
And in you march,
Armed with spreadsheets,
Graphs, and celestial maps.
You make it happen.
Beyond the office walls,
Beneath sky the color of oatmeal,
You’re the Best Friend,
Listening to the saga
Of yet another romance
Gone tragic, offering wisdom
Your friend looks forward to ignoring.
But they’re all lost
Without you.
It’s you, Candace, sailing forward,
They, oblivious, in your powerful wake.
Elaine Morse Kaven is from Buffalo, NY. She received a BA in English from SUNY, went on to graduate studies in contemporary theater at Ohio State University, and thenworked in financial services in Boston, MA. She is proud to be making her second appearance in GHLL. She now lives in northern Virginia with her husband, Bob Kaven, writing poetry, participating in workshops and readings, and working to end global human trafficking and exploitation.