Silver hoop earrings on the slick wood of your coffee table,
I leave them there deliberately. Of course I noticed
the glint of morning sunlight off their circles while you
I leave them there deliberately. Of course I noticed
the glint of morning sunlight off their circles while you
busied yourself brewing coffee in the narrow kitchen,
but I took the mug gratefully and led you back to bed,
but I took the mug gratefully and led you back to bed,
and when, some time later, we went through the ritual
of finding underwear, socks, bras, shirts, jeans, then the coats
of finding underwear, socks, bras, shirts, jeans, then the coats
and boots we’d left by the door, I chose for the first time
to leave something behind. They take their place
beside your books and coasters, they say
I was here, and I’ll be back. They say I’m not afraid
beside your books and coasters, they say
I was here, and I’ll be back. They say I’m not afraid
anymore to have you owe me something.
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Emily May
Anderson lives in Columbus, Ohio, where she
works as an adjunct professor and a freelance proofreader. She holds an MFA
from Penn State University and has published poems and book reviews in a range
of publications including Mid-American Review, Green Mountains Review, Diverse
Voices Quarterly, Sweet, and others. She loves reading her poetry aloud to
anyone who will listen.
Bay Laurel / Volume 2, Issue 1 / Spring 2013