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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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COUNTING

 

At work I’ve tried to ignore

the young pregnant lab technician

and the enhancement of her size

as she reaches up for her purse

on top of the coat rack.

 

She places a mint in her mouth,

its wrapper in her pocket.

With each mint she takes

I count my days late.

 

The longing demands

precise calculation

of the cycle’s hour,

though sanity begs to forget.

 

At home, you reach around the room,

gather the longing in your arms,

roll it up in a ball

and toss it out the window.

You smile and squeeze my hand.

I know I must learn to squeeze back

and take my eyes from the window.

 

Tonight as we lay within the rain

the night before our Christmas trip home,

the best present slipped away again,

in explosive silence.

 

Now, the rain falls softly as I wipe my face.

I hear you breath deeply in sleep,

I notice muscles in my arms

I longed for as a girl–

perhaps these alone are worth living.


                                  -Marie Gray Wise

File:Rain-on-Thassos.jpg

Rain, ©Anton Lefterov