Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Sarah St Vincent Welch #55 Grief


we put off meeting at the café
since then it’s passed to stranger’s hands
I wavered at our table and informed the waiter
sat in shadowed panels below the crazed cracked mirror
our before work morning coffee double shot, told the gentle barista
again I'm fine, leave me if I cry, as I weep, here, my dear, my dear, dear


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