Not so much poem a day as poem every so often



Woman In the Pew


I thought,
As long as he can see me, that’s all that matters–


How do you move if no one’s watching?

What is it to scrub egg from the pan
or open the door, no need to point
at the ring around the moon,
a hand pinching the bridge of the nose
like any other gesture now.
What good are records if they can burn?


Of course I can breathe,
I can move in the world.
The nape of my neck must still be there.
My black coat is distinct from the night
though no one knows who I am;
I believe in corners and edges and ends.


When I began I believed I would find him.
Instead I found you. If you want to,
you can come in. We can share a table.

– ST


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