I'm In A Taxi At The End Of The World
. . . meter running, searching for that place
I saw once when you loved me. The night
is an egg—thick, with a broken moon.
Since you've gone, I rack up days
like billiard balls, scatter them
to the corners of time, looking
for a pocket—any warm pocket.
Sarah Russell returned to poetry after a career teaching, writing and editing academic prose. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Kentucky Review, Red River Review, Misfit Magazine, and Shot Glass Journal, among others. More poems at www.SarahRussellPoetry.com