Mood: reluctantly patient | Drinking: the tea from home
A fresh poem for you. And yes, this one’s mine. No borrowing today…
Hunter
Remember when we had a home
when every street lamp
and sidewalk crack
was familiar
as the way your palm
fit my face.
On my walk to the park
I would pass oblivious tourists
and think if they knew
they would want to be me.
Once I had a place for everything
here fits my wishbone,
there rests my dance card
and in the corner
always you
in your chair.
Now I am a hunter
ferreting through wreckage
for a piece that will
fit it all back together.
—
-Lo, who has taken to reading real estate listings like a horoscope.
LaDonnaWitmer 