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