perfection
Walking home, I spot a crane in the cement shallows of Ballona Creek. Pure white, and black-billed, it dips its head in the murky water for a drink, then flies away, a trail of ripples in its wake.
I live a lifetime
between one heartbeat
and the next
rota
Feed the pets. Make coffee. Open the curtains and let the sun punch you in the face. Today, you play music instead of listening to the news. You dance with your cat, who’s not amused.
iced coffee
and tame impala
break the cycle
the other brother
Late night gyros. Tumblers of cranberry juice. Photos of the Hagia Sophia. Your face, like your mother’s, doesn’t include calculation. You don’t know I’m leaving. After 23 years, we finally speak. Now, I don’t want to go.
by the next full moon
i ‘ll be on
a new adventure
Marie C Lecrivain is an author, and curator of two literary blogs,
Her work’s been published in Gargoyle, Nonbinary Review, Orbis, and various journals. She’s currently writing her first novella.


No comments:
Post a Comment