UNTITLED

It was a helluva whirlwind

The way the room spun

Faces going in every direction

Like ‘Guernica’

Art imitating life—I suppose

Even right side up

Your ways are peculiar

I left your bowl on the table this morning

Where you sat,

Your presence will always linger

I will never forget

A broken tea-cup

Have you ever heard China cry?

For many years, these walls have streamed

With decaffeinated tears

An heirloom passed on by your father

I just lay there in silence

Next to the China

That’s why—I left your bowl on the table this morning.

 

By Mari S.

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