Late Nights | early mornings
Johanna M. Vining
he made me marmalade
marrow on toast
made me fetch his wine, his lidded kiss
eventually claustrophobic, sewn delicacies in the sleeve
a young thirty-six or an old thirty-one
one, two, three steps then gone
graphite and granite
world spinning or perception askew
late to the appointment, still late waiting
making sense of this now
exactly the same at seventeen,
now with more wine, more mobility
one eye open while behind the curtain:
bye, bye, birdie – one year four –
railway whistle I can hear your future calling
footsteps falling and a memory of seized words
never anyone like me for you, never anyone like you for me
truth in this
we both deserved better
YOU ARE READING
Navigating the Divorce
PoesíaSeries of chronological poems from the point of decision until.... It never seems over even when it's over.