Brevity
by Amy L. Sargent
This empty year
the patched mattress
between this discussion
and our last
late breakfast
at your scarred table.
Your fingers
spread wings
on my bare neck;
you walked out
to find a knife
for the jam.
by Amy L. Sargent
This empty year
the patched mattress
between this discussion
and our last
late breakfast
at your scarred table.
Your fingers
spread wings
on my bare neck;
you walked out
to find a knife
for the jam.
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