In the years we bathed in gasoline
and played with matches,
I attained most of my extremes
and never wished to return.
We separated after a year
of burning photographs
and stethoscopes
and all of our money.
She now lives outside
a city on an ocean bay
that regularly knows flooding
and shuttered fishing boats.
I now live on a mountain
where sorrow has thickened to granite.
copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney
Love that last line. Excellent piece!
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Thanks, Beth.
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