I Had to Tell Her

When the words hit
she gave only the slightest sign of comprehension
before her body fell.

Its full weight upon me in that last embrace
her oh-so-exacting fingers
the fineness of her wrists
her child-like bones
erased all thought of that glowing cigarette
between our beds when the night was warm
and her unseen eyes were not these eyes.

She turned stone cold around me.
There was never any chance of escape.

Lavender Review, Winter 2011

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About Carol Foreman Brockfield

Poet in Medford, Oregon
This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to

  1. Dee Chadwell says:

    I’m glad you posted this one — I’ve always liked it.

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