A Slow Drift



The snow hid things
the tracks to my window erased
as the hearts we traced
into the dust on the sill
days when the wind scoured our faces
until they were pink and smooth
as unchewed gum balls

Now for warmth
only the patchwork quilt
made from old T-shirts
the bands we’d both loved
or pretended to love
for the sake of the other
lies that matched the snow
and covered us in dust
that made everything
beautiful in the moment
before drifting away

January 2015
Exquisite Corpse Poem
Zombie Salon Members – Andrew, Julie, Tricia


3 responses »

  1. Just getting up from a sleepless night with a mind sparking ideas for a new story. The ‘what ifs’ of a writer. And then I found your poem. Your poem has a beautiful calm poetic realism. Thank you.

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