by Carissa Dewey
earlier today I asked you to stop.
my tears burned.
sitting close and small.
memories of my ride home
how the barren farms, iced fields
and my stark feelings enticed
thoughts of the dog down the road-
chained up, cold.
of the scattered quail desperate in our
wild rose beyond our window-
and our cabin, single room, single brass bed.
where I met you. where I should have left you.
if I was stronger.
yet others live where we once
did and I’ve driven away.
Posted on 01/18/2011
Copyright © 2021 Carissa Dewey