Late Offering (poem)

b1886

 

 

Late Offering

 

 

there was nothing to say

we were lying in bed

 

together no longer able

to touch for fear of

 

opening wounds

the dark hiding us both

 

like wounded animals

I still loved you, or

 

thought I did & then

you began telling me

 

how you weren’t interested

in coming around to see me

 

anymore & that you weren’t

sure if you loved me, or

 

if you had ever loved me

casually inserting a sharp

 

blade through the gaps

in my ribs & so I began

 

playing all my Suzanne Vega

albums one by one

 

knowing how much

you hated her

 

Joanne Fisher

 

 

This poem was first published in Spin and previously appeared on this blog in January 2018.

 

 

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Β©2019 Joanne Fisher

 

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