Tuesday, January 24, 2012



after her wife is gone
her husband
the stranger that was in her bed
after the first bus has gone
carrying the children
more coherent than her own
white light flashing a rhythm
more steady than her heartbeat
in the fog

and before she remembers
to take the next breath
the second bus has come and gone
and the girl
leaving her to wonder
if she made it all up

she puts a load of laundry in
turns on the blessed cool
of winter air conditioning

slips between sheets
unstained by sex

1 comment:

  1. This is one of your best--everything a bit askew & aslant in a way that opens up meaning!