There was a time when we
tattled about life’s trifles
and patriarchal tribulations
over scones and coffee.
Did you forget that time?
Of course, you did. Because,
now when I see you, you look
like a petal that has been run
over thrice by the hooves of a maniacal
horse, like a sky that has been
railroaded by one too many
dark, dominating clouds, like
wounds that long for
Platelets to be their salvation.
Gossiping about this world
seems so long ago because
it was so long ago. Long before
your husband inundated you
with bouts of humiliation and
flung your favorite comb out
on the sidewalk.