Sunday March 1, 2020
My Book Life
I overheard the kind of sorrow that waves speak in
that salt won’t buoy and the tides won’t rinse
I had leaned in and looked into his tired eyes
they were not the eyes of the man I met a decade ago
Before losing one and gaining two
Before breaking and the gulf becoming an envelope
of unknown and hurt and unknown.
I lost my appetite for coleslaw and roasted
Ran my finger through the soft
pull of spicy mayonnaise.
Maybe it was the closeness of the possible
yesterday or the possible tomorrow.