Thursday, August 7

Party of One

clench, unclench
swallow bitter, black coffee
rub the tender place
just below your earlobe

repeat in silence
until the cup is empty

crease, uncrease
the morning paper
mark the tender place
with a smudge of newsprint

give voice to the words
that glide under your thumb

at a table for two
she looks up and sighs
Everything is just fine,
she whispers under her breath

A question?
A wish?
A prayer.

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