The Poetree. Poems by Lindsay Lewis
Almost We tossed around the word almost the last time we met our life an egg and spoon race against the clock Don’t fall for me, you said. Don’t project, I replied knowing we’d passed the expiration date. I could conjugate you all night change your endings to make them agree. At 1 a.m, I rise, boil two eggs, smile wryly yearning to spoon you and later, when I close my eyes in...
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