I Should Have Called Her Madam

When the Haitian woman
from the prison where I worked
bent to whisper in my
ear I knew she was important
and felt the honor of her
breath on my cheek.

The container of everyday
doesn't hold such messages well.
But even here a few words evoked
images of lasting names,
things not fading, bolstered
by innocence.

We are like snowmen she said.
Life melts while we strategize
about 20, 30 years. We are smart

but can't imagine courtesies
persisting in you,
the rocks of the stars.

Then she was gone.