My Old Friend Longing
Matt asks me how you are
and I’m reminded of a life I almost lived:
the one where I’d know the answer.
Here she comes gliding back.
She sits on my chest,
runs her hands down my throat.
Her fist white, my dead fish tongue greying
with an unutterable apology.
I lean into her grip. I don’t
know how to set myself free in the end.
Copyright © Kathleen Austin | Year Posted 2021
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment