Day 839: Brevity

His cool words smooth

my chiseled brow. My head

hurts. That is all.

_______________________________

An excerpt from

Coda
by Marilyn Hacker

…

I miss you more than when I was in France 
and thought I'd soon be done with missing you. 
I miss what we'd have made past making do, 
haft meshing weft as autumn days advance, 
transliterating variegated strands 
of silk, hemp, ribbon, flax, into some new 
texture. I missed out on misconstrued 
misgivings; did I miss my cue; boat? Chanc- 
es are, the answer's missing too. At risk 
again, sleep and digestion, while I seize on 
pricklier strands, crushed to exude the reason 
I can't expect you'll ring up from your desk, 
calling me Emer, like Cuchulain's queen, 
to say, we need bread and some salad greens. 

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