cambiata.

when it has been a hard year, indelible

patterns wear down the floorboards

daylight presses an imprint against
the film on neglected window panes

limbs remain where limbs must lie in

wilted angles, measured in sepia

when alone is a place to dwell, bitter as a

worn chair in the middle of the room

tolerantly pending the comrade of

umber, who bears a smooth glass of medicine

perhaps time has unveiled a hushed

melody of imminent contentment, watchfully 
tending to deserted spaces with conciliation

leading all of the voices in conversation

until the heart skips dissonance

© 4.15.2017 heather brager