 She welcomes hello with eyelashes that blink in waves and I am the shore, the resting place for her smile. She shrinks with fragile breath bolstered by a long silver cord, as if connected to heaven. God makes oxygen machines. She says bye but my stomach says wait, and I wonder when I return if she'll be here. Empty space will wave to me. A hurricane with a magnitude of years. And the richter scale of sobs will be shooting off the charts. Judith Pordon |
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Judith Pordon
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment