Fifteen Months and I’m Still Not Over It
I tuck a napkin under my chin
and wear the memory of you
like a shield against my heart,
hold a table to my chest to ward off
this lioness of grief.
Dinner alone—a banquet
if I spin it—convinced
I’m cool enough
to the touch, microwave safe
when nuked two to four minutes.
Read this poem in its entirety here: https://huskzine.com/issues/husk-1-1/fifteenmonthsandimstillnotoverit/