A Poem By Rebecca Gonzales

A Yellow Dress

I forget my own dreams
When I’m defined by your desire
A woman, gentle as a willow,
Dark skin made darker in a billowing yellow dress.
You would have me seated beside you,
Ankles crossed in a tender pose,
Or swishing by in white high heel shoes,
Glancing over my shoulder at you,
The air misted with the scent of gardenias.

In your fantasy I’ll stay, shutting out what beckons at our door.
I’ll gather the folds of yellow dress around me
And listen for a script to unfold.
In your fantasy I’ll stay if you swear to me
That yellow is never the color of aging gardenias or jaundice or disease.
Warn me that the gravel road outside our door
Doesn’t fare well for a hitchhiker in a yellow dress and high heel shoes;
Keep me from uncovering that time and desperate effort
Swirl in the alchemy that renders the dreams of the poor into nightmares.