Wednesday, February 3, 2016


Winter weary
I wait in line
boot slush seeping
into the industrial carpet.
Pearl earrings, cardigan
quick and efficient
Martha is my teller.
Never chatty
today she speaks.
"My cat died last night."
I stutter over a so-sorry
as she slides my receipt
gestures for the next in line.

this slice of sorrow stays with me
throughout the day.
I picture empty spaces
altered routines
gone grazing the tongue.
What have I to offer
other than this ...
of a fellow soldier.

Bridget Harwell


e said...

Very lovely, Bridget, just like you! :) "Gone grazing the tongue" has a nice duality to it, sounding like what cats do all day when they clean themselves! Thanks for sharing.

Bridget said...

Thank you e.

Amy R. said...

Very nice.

Bridget said...

Thanks, Amy.