bathed in moonlight
I wash in
each scent you left behind
baptized in them
I become born-again
a poet speaking in tongues
Sketchbook, Vol. 5, No. 1
A Room of My Own: Parting Words Tanka
-
so much of life
grows clearer with the years —
her parting words
yet grit like sand in my mouth
whenever I repeat them
*Added: *
newly divorced
I stare at...
