"Those were hard things for me to come by, and I offer them to you for what they may be worth." - Toby Wolff

Monday, March 14, 2011


The soup is viscous
able to float my deeds
as they cannonball
from loose lips

I avoid looking at her
for she has long used bitter skin
to cloak her eyes into agreement I do not exist.

I have wronged her
I have not wronged her
She stole from me
She gave to me
Perhaps I should have paid her more
and used her less
so I could sit as a human again

The way she makes me invisible
I consider to be painful
the ache of answers
returning as questions.

(She was stealing time from me, lying on her time card. I let her go. It was six years ago. I see her now and then. I said "Hello" to her for the first year. I got no response. Now I pretend she is invisible too. Today we lunched as ghosts.)

1 comment:

  1. The second stanza of this poem is exquisite.


Thank you for listening.