Carol Moran
Lake Michigan in February
Shot with IPhone 6Plus
Widow's Weeds
Crepe is draped
across the canopy
of the bedposts as
I lie in repose.
Heavy skirts sweep
the wooden floors
picking up dust-
unsettling past.
I lock my hair
in an ornament,
yours too fine
to scissor cut.
Jet courses through
veins vacant
of life lived before
you came
and went.
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