Memory
The offices merge, and the
dinners and the nights out.
Even, embarrassingly, the aunts
and the children of friends.
But never the sunrises.
Each one mapped distinctly
across my veins
like a new and still-blossoming love.
The offices merge, and the
dinners and the nights out.
Even, embarrassingly, the aunts
and the children of friends.
But never the sunrises.
Each one mapped distinctly
across my veins
like a new and still-blossoming love.
BURNING HOUSE PRESS 