The newscaster pauses as he realizes he’s just singsonged, 
	‘Talks ended with no truce in Belarus,’
and I see you leaning against a blue-domed church I know nothing about,
						    going over your notes.

You’ve been flinging yourself chest-first into stories
the concerned mothers of mutual friends say you have no business touching.
For years you have done this, trying to thump out of there what remains 
						    of a woman we both love.

And this is something else I know nothing about.

-Published in The Wax Paper Vol. 1, Iss. 2.

One thought on “Ceasefire

  1. Pingback: Upcoming Workshop | Elizabeth O'Connell-Thompson

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