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By twinkle Date: 2008 Jul 29 Comment on this Work [[2008.07.29.16.58.25826]] |
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I put on my sweater; the one for summer threadbare, its getting holes near the pockets July, its raining outside, your side of the bed is cold I call you on my way to work your voice a lake of sweet tea The star lilies you gave me to celebrate are half bloom half bud filling the kitchen with white light taking part of my silence into its folds --- when I hear you play the mandolin, something in me bends down to cry --- the day you got back from Kabul, I was too thin and we fought about the next time you'd be gone by the time we got home, we were speaking again and then not speaking the halls thick with our hunger our bellies warm beneath the sheets |