Wall poem


She knew every wave in that Bay,

like her son had taken a photo,

framed it, and stuck it on the wall

to keep her company.   Except

the waves weren’t digital, blown up

or stuck on any wall but in

her head where they moved even when

she wasn’t looking, a myriad pins

glinting in that Bay she knew, kept

safe, when she turned to face the wall. 

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