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Borrowed Change
by Philippa JaneYou sent me a note, simple
evidence of weary breath.
It appeared on my doorstep,
not tucked between the sheets
of an unmade bed; not wedged
beneath a breakfast plate,
stale crumbs and half-eaten
toast. I don't even know what you
welcomed that day, your final
consumption.
We each retained a copy of the
certificate, dark letters on a crisp
page. Truth unleashed from an old
typewriter. I thought of you, your
little footsteps, soft hands. Gripping
the red rail; tap, tap, tap. Out the
door, mimicking my final descent.
Yours unknown. Those bruised
knees - evidence? secrets?
silence?
Silence. 06/15/2005 Author's Note: Probably one of an eventual (reworked?) series. In loving memory.
Posted on 06/15/2005
Copyright © 2024 Philippa Jane
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Ava Blu on 06/15/05 at 08:56 AM Your title works so well. I can't pick out just one line to love; they're all spectacular.
A series would be nice, but this does not need to be reworked. (of course, that's just my 2cents) I am loving your words; I must spend more time going through your folders. |
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