Thursday, February 2, 2017





Routine


You would not know
that they were sisters,
except for the tilt of the head
and the family nose.
One all bones
the other broad and lumpy.
Tired from the procedure,
the frail one waited behind the glass door
nothing inside her but time.
She watched her sister
lurch across the parking lot,
a duffel bag in motion.
Elbows held tight against her ribs
trying to steer herself.
She had a turned-out left foot.
It seemed to say
"Let's go the other way."

Bridget Harwell


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