ALYSA MAYER
like how my fingers

I brushed
the years
off a yellowed page
five letters
I can not separate
like how my fingers
close in a fist

I studied
the spaces
among your inked words
the curves of my name
and "love"
like how my fingers
traced your outline

I turned
the sheets
like reading a palm
but their pages
numbly fluttered
like how my fingers
waved good-bye

Back to Issue 1, 1999

 
 
The Pen and Anvil Press
 

 

ISSN 2150-6795
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