Wednesdays
on Wednesdays
we laid rough stones
along the dry-lipped crinkled edges
of his porch
on Wednesdays
he looked away you swiped my face
your tawdry hanky
Assam-stained
we wrung each other out
on Wednesdays
I watched his gray-jacket body
shoulders like a hook
I counted his steps in the drive
passenger door swung shut
like a red rubber stamp
on Wednesdays
I retired to the wicker rocker
he left behind trying to decide
what was lonelier, an empty chair
or a single chopstick
on Wednesdays
you came from behind
covered my eyes surprise surprise
I missed him before his car was
out of sight
Wednesdays
Written in collaboration with Brendan Bonsack (www.brendanbonsack.com)
By Brendan Bonsack and Reka Jellema
August 2014
on Wednesdays
we laid rough stones
along the dry-lipped crinkled edges
of his porch
on Wednesdays
he looked away you swiped my face
your tawdry hanky
Assam-stained
we wrung each other out
on Wednesdays
I watched his gray-jacket body
shoulders like a hook
I counted his steps in the drive
passenger door swung shut
like a red rubber stamp
on Wednesdays
I retired to the wicker rocker
he left behind trying to decide
what was lonelier, an empty chair
or a single chopstick
on Wednesdays
you came from behind
covered my eyes surprise surprise
I missed him before his car was
out of sight
Wednesdays
Written in collaboration with Brendan Bonsack (www.brendanbonsack.com)
By Brendan Bonsack and Reka Jellema
August 2014
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