Today's poem is by Juditha Dowd


Lately it seems that you and I
are trying to remember how to live without each other.
In the basement you warn yourself not to bump your head.
I wonder if I'm strong enough to till the garden.

Old habits slink out of their dens,
remaking themselves at home.
You scramble eggs and burn my favorite pan,
I go off to bed without a thought, the lights still blazing.

We keep seeing these unwelcome guests
as we glance over our shoulders at the dimming afternoons.
They chill the house with their feral weather,
chapping our lips.

We don sweaters, make room.
Our tongues taste metal and salt.

Copyright © 2014 Juditha Dowd All rights reserved
from Mango in Winter
Grayson Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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