Late Nights | early mornings

Late Nights | early mornings
Johanna M. Vining

he made me marmalade
marrow on toast
made me fetch his wine, his lidded kiss

eventually claustrophobic, sewn delicacies in the sleeve
a young thirty-six or an old thirty-one
one, two, three steps then gone

graphite and granite
world spinning or perception askew
late to the appointment, still late waiting

making sense of this now
exactly the same at seventeen,
now with more wine, more mobility

one eye open while behind the curtain:
bye, bye, birdie ā€“ one year four ā€“
railway whistle I can hear your future calling

footsteps falling and a memory of seized words
never anyone like me for you, never anyone like you for me
truth in this

we both deserved better

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