The hem of Mother Nature's skirt (complete)

by Angela Thomas

Central Park is like the hem of Mother Nature's
peridot skirt poking out from the middle of a train
wreck. I miss you more than I can quantify and I feel
like without you, my hands keep trying to curl around

the steel bars on the subway, the old wood of my staircase,
anything that might be warm to the touch. I sleep kissing
my pillow because before, your head had touched it and it
still smells just as sweet as you. Your picture adorns my

wall, my desk, my laptop, and my memory. We were talking
on the phone tonight and you didn't say anything special
except, "What does my voice say to you?" It spoke softly like
you were telling a secret into a microphone just after you

woke up from an afternoon nap. It made me slowly close
my eyes and feel your words, "It says you love me."


Posted on 09/03/2005
Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas

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