Hung Out To Dry
Upon the clothesline
hang the whispers
of tomorrow’s hope,
the bedsheets from
the bed half-empty
interspersed with
graphic Ts and memories
of last August when we
walked the trails through
Prince Edward Island, and
fears that the world has
changed too much and
what we now take off
the line was not ours
to beginning with.
© May 2020
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