Jeff Walt captures a moment of loss in a poem that is both stark and lovely.
My Last Lover Was
black smoke for dinner night after night.
blueberry pancakes and Jimmy Dean sausage in bed.
every light on in the damn house.
a scab I kept picking at.
Loretta Lynn on repeat.
a spoiled child crying in the toy aisle.
keys lost and buried in a drawer.
stubborn as the lid on a ketchup bottle.
A note saying he was cured.
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Photo by See-ming Lee /Flickr