I Hate Poetry: The Buddah Moskowitz Archive
"These aren't poems. They're more like speeches from a movie that will never be made."
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Showing posts with label
mom
.
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Showing posts with label
mom
.
Show all posts
Thursday, January 26, 2017
Numb (A Rehearsal)
I walk these
faux
-comforting
corridors,
past loss,
elation,
birth,
death.
Numb.
Someday
I’ll walk these
one last time.
Last night
was just
a rehearsal.
Madre Moskowitz, awaiting dialysis
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