with Reka Jellema
on Wednesdays
we laid rough stones
along the dry-lipped crinkled edges
of his porch
on Wednesdays
he looked away you swiped my face
your tawdry hanky
assam-stained
we wrung each other out
on Wednesdays
I watched his gray-jacket body
shoulders like a hook
I counted his steps in the drive
passenger door swung shut
like a red rubber stamp
on Wednesdays
I retired to the wicker rocker
he left behind trying to decide
what was lonelier, an empty chair
or a single chopstick
on Wednesdays
you came from behind
covered my eyes surprise surprise
I missed him before his car was
out of sight
Wednesdays
Written with Reka Jellema
© Reka Jellema & Brendan Bonsack
August 2014