Close to coffee and cigarette,
I could be anywhere—
my tiny light lost
in night’s black sea.
Come dawn, she takes shape
to locate me beneath her
supine silhouette of ridges
rising, breathing like always.
Close to coffee and cigarette,
I could be anywhere—
my tiny light lost
in night’s black sea.
Come dawn, she takes shape
to locate me beneath her
supine silhouette of ridges
rising, breathing like always.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2015
Tagged coffee and cigarette, Dry Creek, photographs, poetry, weather





