Crumbs
Sometimes, when I go to slice
a lunchtime sandwich,
I remember the square of our bed,
how I always played at swapping sides
just to see you better,
how you turned your back
as I cut the diagonal,
how corners appeared
and then disappeared,
how this feast of mine
gets smaller.
Feast
The square of our bed
A bag of squirrels jigsaw
Sunday morning extra syllables
Adaptive prayers
Famine
Blank page and the dot
A clean sheet Haiku sandwich
Before dust to mote
5/2020
No comments:
Post a Comment