|
Some people raise
their hands and faces
pulsating with joy,
shouting, “Yes Lord!”
I curl my fingers
around a coffee cup,
looking long
into my friend’s tired face.
Who put her here?
Her husband’s work leaves her
alone with grown sons,
their internet gambling,
never enough milk.
She complains.
I hum, “Yes, Lord”—
about her daughter’s budding breasts,
“Lord have mercy!”
We all
get to say what we like.
I search for words
that kiss. |
