You carry the earth in your hair:
red dirt of Nevada in wind-
blown dreads. I slowly trace where
the ant tattoo crawls across your skin
when you clench your fist.
After thousands of miles between us,
I feel lonelier now than ever, your kiss
a shiny memory fading to rust.
Through the open door to my room,
I can hear your breath in dream
from where you’re curled up on the couch. Soon
you’ll be on the road to Aberdeen,
Kyoto, or Montreal—somewhere far,
a place somehow closer than where we are.
C. M. Donahue holds a BFA in Writing, Literature, and Publishing with a Poetry concentration from Emerson College and an MA in Curriculum and Instruction from the University of Connecticut. Poetry by C. M. Donahue has recently been published or is forthcoming in Jersey Devil Press, Amaryllis, and Sonic Boom.
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