Friday, July 15, 2011

Birchwood

She sips herself dry
Of the warning.
Her breath
Is beating
Like foghorn.

If she gasps
She relapses in fault;
The schoolteacher memory
Can break her.

But he chooses her
As his plaything.
Mental monogamy.
A winter she cannot misplace.

She never found
Her glove.

He keeps the teacup he offered her
In his top dresser drawer:
Her bright pink lipstick has caked,
And she wears darker shades
In the skin she now rents.

She learned three things
That semester:
Conviction,
And the yearning to fly.

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