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.
a cat I threw out that kept coming back.
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.
Born Again.
***
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Lovely, lyrical and haunting. It often is the little things, isn’t it. Thanks Jeff.