What would a grown woman do?
She'd tug off earring
when the phone rang, drop it to the desk...
You'd hear the ice, tangling in the glass;
the drink being poured. In her voice, low
on the line, you'd hear sorrow, sadness...
All night awake,
I heard my mother's hand smooth me over...
What would a grown woman do?
© Copyright: Путана Бабочка Фиалковая, 2005
Свидетельство о публикации №105030900075
Свидетельство о публикации №105030900075
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