3.8.2016
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Poem
Remember when I said that I wrote you a poem every week for
more than a year and you told me that you read a few and that they
weren’t all about you but they were
so
why did you stop reading or believing in these words that I
left so carelessly out for all the world to see
like it was some sort of favor to myself when all it really was is this extended plea
that comes on like the wind, with past voices
that say,
“Come back, come home, I miss you”
more by KRISTEN GREEN
photograph by Anna Grau
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