Arvilla Fee


I like the idea of you,
those lines I penciled in,
the shading of your eyes,
the curve of your cheeks,
just a bit too gaunt,
the subtle angled jaunt
of your adobe red beret;
I like the shading,
the slight blurring of charcoal
that gifted you
a devil-may-care grin;
I want to meet you,
to brush back the bangs
I swept across your forehead
and plant a kiss on the tip
of your Romanesque nose.


Fade to Black

Languish is so close to anguish,
is it not? The way the two lie
a wasting away,
the way my face contorts
in a concerted effort to hold back tears,
the way your hair comes out in clumps
and coats the inside of the shower,
the way I wipe it away with tissues.
Someone once asked me
if I’d rather see you shrink
or be snatched away in a car accident.
What can I say?
I suppose this way, we get to say
all the things we never said;
a meandering goodbye
down the S-curve road
of treatments, vomit and fatigue.
Your hands are cold today;
I’ll hold them in my own
and watch the valiant rise and fall
of your too-thin chest.


Arvilla Fee teaches English Composition for Clark State College and is the poetry editor for the San Antonio Review. She has published poetry, photography, and short stories in numerous presses. Her poetry books, The Human Side and This Is Life, are available on Amazon. For Arvilla, writing produces the greatest joy when it connects us to each other.