I already knew.
In the photos
her smile flounders
before it finds her eyes.
She is missing,
though her body
moves, leaves the kettle
to boil dry, starts something
for dinner, while the last
idea burns.
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Shawn L. Bird
Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.
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Twitter Updates
- RT @john34239: #tanka #5lines #reflections dust swirling in a sunbeam glimpses of my life in each particle –published in a now defun… 6 hours ago
- RT @only1elle: abandoned house a faded kite in the tree daffodils where a dog is buried... https://t.co/S6NtAcsz5U 6 hours ago
- RT @haikueveryday: In my parents’ house — the stairs still creaking in the same place — Martina Sylvia Khamphasith 6 hours ago
