I had
my cold hands against my neck
I had
a new blouse on
I had
a sad empty feeling
your sad empty smile
was mine
a clock without numbers
a clock without a body
a ghost on the opposite wall
it could never be a pocketwatch--
a young girl’s lip trembled
--neither could she
the door was swinging open
and closed
and open
and cold
winter the storybook villain
had turned to winter
the armed robber on Washington Street
sad and empty had turned from something
to all we are
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 8:51 PM UTC
I had
my cold hands against my neck
I had
a new blouse on
I had
a sad empty feeling
your sad empty smile
was mine
a clock without numbers
a clock without a body
a ghost on the opposite wall
it could never be a pocketwatch--
a young girl’s lip trembled
--neither could she
the door was swinging open
and closed
and open
and cold
winter the storybook villain
had turned to winter
the armed robber on Washington Street
sad and empty had turned from something
to all we are