Her name was Elizabeth
She wore glasses and cashmere
We held hands by fireside and teased about childish things
It was raining, and quick.
Her name was Ashlee
She sat next to me in white dresses
We walked without speaking around mountaintop monasteries
in flaming summer heat
She stuck to me like pollen
We held hands and knew we wouldn’t be together
Her name was Robyn
We met through lost love remembered
We smiled with surprise, for we weren’t for each other
Her name was Sanna
We talked on couches after parties and kissed on sidewalks
She left me, and I cried on the shoulder of strangers while they came
Her name was unimportant
We didn’t speak
She showered and left by dawn streetlight
I smoked a cigarette and wrote this for her
Poetry | Issue 25
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