Thursday, February 28, 2019

More (Day 771)

My habit was hard 

to break   with 

every hour 

that passed   I yearned 


to commit  reclaim

the mistake I’d made 

before   and never 

would live down   so hard 

to break

that waking dream  

the inadvertent glance  

the furtive check and check

and maybe now 

but no


forgetting   a blue landscape   

bittersweet as grandma’s hands   

so small and cool 

and papery   fallen 

rose petals   or a letter   

perhaps   reread  refolded 

a hundred times 


tiny rivulets of blame   clear 

and cold as nails   trace 

figure-eights into the glass 

otherwise opaque   you see

before you come   that

faint movement 

of your hand   I know 

this break 

and hard   I know it


(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Caroline/Flickr (CC BY 2.0) 

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