The Space Between
This entire day
I have felt
just a few seconds
separated from myself.
Stepping outside
I close the door upon my foot.
The glass on the table
is moments away
from the water I pour.
I speak words
that sound foreign
even to me;
said too early,
or perhaps too late.
The tenderness
I thought I felt
is gone
before my hand
ever reaches your arm
by Jill Jupen
from Rattle #43, Spring 2014
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