- Photo by Zack Jarosz
I swear the worst sort of illness,
is one you never quite recover from
It lingers over tea,
overlong
Leaving damp hand towels on the bathroom floor,
and a gaping hole where one's guts should be
A disrespectful guest
A vagabond salt seller
Door to door, with trinkets and buttons
Just to send one to their bed to swoon
and suffer
Oh, but through the years, I have learned to sew,
and a million maidenly things to do
nibble at my day
Yet my mind, is still...
Minitroubadoura 2019 (uj)
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