by Mark Waldrop
A tissue, she was saying - hand me a tissue.
Her seat belt was locked and she was rocking
back and forth in it cinching
wrinkles into her favorite blue silk blouse.
I can't remember her wearing anything else.
Her hands were gesturing - on and on- an endless
loop of fingers with rusted creaking knuckles.
I need a tissue.
And then, lying over sideways, steering blind --
risking my life and what was left of hers.
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Favorite lines:
Her hands were gesturing - on and on- an endless
loop of fingers with rusted creaking knuckles.
Love this one !
Good use of image, sound & motion throughout. Enjoyed reading the poem.
This is understated and effective. I like it a lot.
Wow. One can only imagine the reasons for her tears. Nice.
A very good poem, sad