TGIF. The And How We Love It...Edition

Those visits home, the way the young

by Marianne Boruch


 


Those visits home, the way the young

come back and still follow you around

or find you on the bed reading

or writing, to lie down at an angle or



sit cross-legged. No secret between you,

not even trouble quite though

it isn't ordinary, the way the world unravels

through them: what he said, what she



never, who traveled where, that things—

how exactly—splinter and break

and cut. It trails off then. Both of you,

which one to speak but thinking



better of it. And the book is just a prop,

what you were writing perfectly weightless

in this silence. Child, oh fully no longer,

out there tangling, untangling.

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Hey, thanks for your thoughts and your time:>)

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