as I stoop to pick
up a
tarnished penny, time collapses
I am a funeral’s
pace, fingers slowly
scraping the pavement,
hair falling
forward in a
fluid motion, gently
stroking the back of
my freckled hand
from behind my
eyes I
am watching, blurred sparrows stealing
crumbs from beside the curb, a bus stop
woman fanning herself
with a
crumpled magazine, I am
peering across the
baked-hot parking lot at
myself, an anonymous woman, lost
and still losing, a little girl finding
a treasure
among discarded
wrappers, next to
an empty whiskey bottle
© 6.20.2017 heather brager
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