shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Adele Evershed

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Choosing Chocolates in a Pandemic

I watch the eyelid petals of the last poppy—waiting for them to drop
Missing mornings when you would wash me with your breath—
You always offered a different sort of danger—like eating chocolates without reading the list
—never knowing if I would get a caramel or a hard nut to swell my throat shut

Rain falls in threads and I hear the ascending notes of my phone—
my nerves swoop in forgotten patterns to remind me I already know what falling feels like
After—I unwrap your favorite purple one and think about eating it for the longest time
—but I have always done my best to stay away from bridges and other high places