Before boarding the train, she turned to me with her arm across her belly and said, "you want to have a room of your own to write in, but how about us? How do you put food on the table?" We stood there wrapped in a shroud of silence... Finally, the train whistled into the dead of night.
Her ten-year absence is a black hole where I dream restlessly.
the poems I wrote for her
cattails, April 2018