Outside the hotel, a woman is standing on a ledge unzipping her dress with her hands out. You know better than to catch her, and spend the next hour at the bottom of the ocean repenting. You are not the same– you and the woman, you and the sky, you and the rocks that mutter along the caverns in fifth hand like epitaph. You are not the same, you and the woman. You are never the same.
-609
Filed under: Poetry
