Sunday, October 4

hungry poem of sneak

opening and eating

When there is a face
on the carton
i imagine it
is your face

I kiss near the milk
on this photo
of someone
like you

but I found you
I found that face
that is your face
not just reminding me
of your face

placing down
looking forward to
you walking in that door

so I can spill this milk

as I flip
the table to run
towards you
like you have
been gone
from here
for years

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