When I go to the river with my trouble,
and sit under the big trees, I see my girl again.
Her dress is the colour of soft butter.
Her hunger tastes of whiskey and rain.
Behind us is darkness, and darkness lies ahead.
The worst kind of pain is to miss someone
you’ve never known, and worse, never will.
The emptiest days are loveliest; only
people with desires can be fooled,
and I have none.
Copyright © 2022 by Susan Musgrave, Exculpatory Lilies, McClelland & Stewart