conflicts of avoidance

The highest point of the bridge
shamelessly exposes itself
to the early morning fog.

Winter is on its way.

We start to confess
how we’ll survive the holidays.
Devising urgent strategies
to avoid memories
that are as traditional
as wanting more
than what you have.

We hold our breath
like blankets in a morning grip.
Yesterday’s news never arrived.
We carry on in spite.

This season’s colors:
yellow sweaters,
peach scarves,
beet colored shoes,
and silver buttons
shining like peacocks.

Letting go becomes a narrative fact;
in this, we take solace
as darkness settles around us.

One thought on “conflicts of avoidance

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