she sends me a picture from Italy.
she's in white.
her dark hair down around her shoulders.
bare
and tanned in
the Tuscan light.
she's happy in wine.
in food from the villa down below,
below the wall where
she stands, the olive grove,
smiling in her pose.
a horse and carriage
with a man holding the reins
waiting nearby.
Italy, she writes. i'm happy.
content.
it took an ocean and a year
but i'm free from him.
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