From the Back Porch in Beaverton, Oregon
By Angie Kimmell
So much has occurred in so little time.
I squat here, barefoot in the chilly evening
for the first time in my life.
I’ve lost all that was worth something:
my soulmate, partner, best friend.
I count the days by cigarettes.
Dizzy, empty, spent
a year will tick by,
measured by rain, crisp, cold hikes
I miss your eyes, your shoulders
I can’t smile anymore.
I sleep on the couch
and dream of you walking through the door.