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.
Brevity
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{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
I love this very evocative poem, the slow pace, the things hinted at, walked around very carefully. Amy’s name sounds familiar. Any chance we could get a short bio? I would love to read more. I’m off to google.
Wonderful poem, thanks for sharing!!
Found this on google:
http://www.sundress.net/wickedalice/sargent.html
I love Office Hour I, absolutely love it. Keep up the good work, Amy!