Eight-fifteen (a poem)

Taking a small breather and remembering last words…

‘Eight-fifteen’, she said
and looked at me

I didn’t know what that meant

I thought for a couple of seconds
and said ‘okay’

The next morning
when I arrived
she was in that morphine haze

I wonder if she knew
it was around 8:15…

(25 August 2019)



Wishes sometimes have consequences—order now from your favorite local bookstore!

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