Jonathan Alford

Rookie (12/23/1987 / Temple, TX)

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Widow's Mite

She is drowning evermore.
Black dresses rivet when the wind blows.
Drops are gliding down your cheekbones.
This corpse, it slumps its way to Hades.
Dear God, I beg, let her sleep at my shoulder
Under wooden sheets- we’ll dream eternity.
Or bear me new body in infancy;
I will find her in old age, a tired widow.
And she will recognize my touch.

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