what’s the point
dressed or putting on
when you’ve gone
to their side.
Snaps, buttons, zippers, bows,
tape, staples, envelopes…
There you go, and here I sigh
wondering how to say goodbye.
the last trip to some unknown place
the last squeeze of lime in the Tequila
the last unforgettable melted-crayon sunset
the last green apple core rotting on the ground
the last crunchy leaf that finally let go
the last time you held me to your heart
the first blow of cold against my face
Wynne Huddleston is an elementary music teacher and grandmother. She decided on her 50th birthday that it was time to do the things she had always dreamed of doing—taking ballroom dance lessons and becoming a published poet. After giving up on finding a dance partner, she plunged full force into poetry. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Emerald Tales, Gemini Magazine, The Shine Journal, Birmingham Arts Journal, among others.
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