Day 19 of the PAD challenge. Prompt: A poem with a "hole" in it.
the hole that is the whole of him
(so it seems, sometimes) with his
dear volubility, discoursing away
faster than the birds in the bush
and herself only half-awake at eight and
longing for some--liquid stimulant--
to rouse her to awaked-ness
straining his words through her hands
she places several (snap!) in her purse,
some, twinned like the pepper and
salt on her countertop (click-clack), still
others atop her bathroom looking-glass,
and a stack in the milk-white breadbox, fresh
when she needs them most
the hole filled with the whole
of him, hands, mouth, stomach....
his words so freely given,
so greedily received
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