side by side
you wouldn't know
each photo
is of
the same person.
the wind of time has
blown
hard
across her body.
it's hard to know
if she knows
who you are, if she has
something to say,
her voice
now closed for good.
how plentiful her words
once were,
especially on the phone,
on sunday.
miles away.
in the kitchen
leaning over a pot boiling
on the stove.
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1 comment:
Wonderful poem
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