Amuse Bouche

She sends a message, brief, but chipper. From it,
I extract some nourishment in much the way a dog
Sucks marrow from a bone. Afterwards, she's
Out of touch. The distance between her and me
Remains, and, in the silence of another afternoon
Alone, I wish for something more to eat. I call
Up photographs of her and start to lick my lips.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 197 times
Written on 2019-04-01 at 15:26

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