Polona Oblak
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mail from an ex
the flesh that clings to a peach stone carbonara
the loose strand of the waitress's hair harbour lights
he says he wants to grow old with me unfaithful again
oil stains on the garage floor winter light
the glimmer of fish scales in an old man's beard |
his fingers cross my tan line summer rain
rain on snow
i dial a number that no longer exists milk moon
the runt of the litter finds its teat campfire embers
the stories we listened to when we were children warm on my skin
the moss agate pendant grandmother wore wet dog smell of your excuses
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dead crow
snowflakes melting as they fall melting glacier
i forgive you for hurting me winter sky
she knits a turquoise yarn into her son's scarf his final word
the sound of sleet falling on ice |
