January 2005 / Volume VI / Issue I
Debbie Kirk

Pennies are still money

Every single slurred word
That leaks out of my snarled lips
Is like a familiar uncomfortable
Morning odor
Morning comes harder
When night literally falls

I put my bra in my purse
And take the change from your pockets
And that mug you keep by the door

And you

Are nothing but the wet spot
Left behind
From my dream
Of war.
RETURN to JANUARY 2005