Waning Gibbous
I can only retroactively know
the reason why
(if I ever know at all).
Yesterday I trudged into a huge
swell about to
crash onto the broken
rocks cutting the soft
pads of my feet. There was nothing
to be gained from running. All I could
do was hold my breath,
close my eyes, try to
make myself narrow to
pierce the surface less painfully
and wait…
Today I awoke unscathed,
before their return
from the morning walk,
drank coffee,
made a list,
like yesterday was lived in
by some other wife.
2 thoughts on "Waning Gibbous"
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This is lovely. Sums up middle-age womanhood succinctly.
Really good poem. The second stanza a counterpoint with its wry last line. And the title, just right for ” middle-age womanhood”