Monday, December 9, 2013


There’s an arrogance
to the word that ignores
the backs I’ve turned,
the walking-aways I’ve earned,
the empty straining of arms.

But here it is, surrounding
me in the way she kisses,
the easy tangle of our fingers,
her insisting upon getting up early
each morning to stir blueberries
into my cereal – berries she picked
behind the shade of thick green rows
that stretch into the inadequacy
of any other word.

Emerge Literary Journal - Winter 2013

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