After the Storm


The front porch
a slab of concrete
cold and damp
I thrust my hansds into my  coat pockets
alien and inexplicable sorrow in
the grape jelly marrow in my small bones,
making them ache and shiver.
Bored and restless
with all the time in the world to fill
like an empty glass of milk
that I drank too fast
on a warmer day in the summer.
that hadn’t come yet.


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