A Stem of Blue Delphinium

I brought it to her office 
one summer, and she placed it 
by the fountain on her desk, 
water flowing over small stones—
to help students feel peace, she said.

Before she left 
for her new job in Wisconsin,
our department had a party for her.

When we met the next morning,
I parked by the Pine River. 
A few trees flowered pink and white.

She brought me a slice of chocolate cake. 
As I ate, she looked out her window 
at the pale gray sky. 

I asked, somehow, if she 
would hurt herself, 
still feeling her late-night call
the week before—
her voice speeding in circles.

She looked at me,
swaying her head, 
then squeezed my hand, 
brushing the top firm 
with her thumb.    

for Roseanne

WILLIAM PALMER

William Palmer’s poetry has appeared recently in Cold Mountain Review, J Journal, One Art, On the Seawall, and Poetry East. He has published two chapbooks: A String of Blue Lights and Humble. A retired professor of English at Alma College, he lives in Traverse City, Michigan.