We speak now only in italics
Passing each other throughout
the day a hundred times
The familiarity, the recognition in habit lies
there underneath as it echoes back to us
Our false tender mercies and shared memories
Not so clever distortions
Uncommon grounds
One of these days you will not
come home
And the cycle will begin anew
More at https://www.taralynnhawk.com/.
—–
Tara’s second book of poems, “Rhetorical Wanderlust” coming at the end of November. Her first, “The Dead”, is available on Smashwords.
