Ask me my age and I'll tell you to startby counting the smile linescreasing my face;when that’s not enough,the cracks in my heart— sure, you can’t see thembut here in my chestthey ache like broken bonesfor old loves, for all the lost mothers,all the dogs gone; count all my gray hairs,count all my scars—the purple ones, too,where babies once… Continue reading An Old Woman Answers
Tag: #melancholy
What I Remember
are mournful gulls,the hollow clang of lobster boat bells,the cloak of November melancholy misting over a small harbor town,a place facing backward at Pleistocene tides,at gravity’s pull on the moon and the sea. I often felt sad at my parents' home.When my plane touched down, I sank in the cold,the constant swashing ebbing and flowthat… Continue reading What I Remember