Sunday, February 2, 2020

Brian Rihlmann writes


As we talked and laughed
while sitting on a riverside bench,
you reached toward me,
and with your fingernail
tore a tangled spider web
from between the slats,
freeing a little grey moth
caught there,
beating frantic wings.

It perched on your finger
for a moment,
until you held it aloft
and gently blew.

You smiled as it flew,
and I breathed 
an extra breath
as something in me

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