I learned the word broken
in the middle of the night.
Your back was against my chest, naked,
your glasses discarded (groped for
in the morning,) your ear to the bed.
You were all good hearing, you heard it coming,
you heard it coming, the end
of my residence in New England,
the end of my residence here, the end, the end,
the end of us.
Callie S. Blackstone writes both poetry and prose. Her work appears or is forthcoming in Plainsongs, Lily Poetry Review, Rust+Moth, Prime Number Magazine, West Trestle Review, and others. Callie is a lifelong New Englander. She is lucky enough to wake up to the smell of saltwater and the call of seagulls every day. You can find her online home at calliesblackstone.com
