When the upper air smells weak,
when speech flickers
and is no longer sufficient,
it’s time to fold up fallibility
and move onward to the next city.
I plucked your name from a cloud.
Something didn’t seem right
or at the very least seem fair,
but I honored my obligations
to the letter.
Now I can’t call myself
a better person necessarily.
A preferable one, sure.
It’s a matter of balancing.
My favorite sweater is worn
in the elbows, and so is my mind.
Muscle in, why don’t you,
and be my weary bride?

-r. miller

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s