Cartographic Memory

Other women, possessing key value pairs, With dictionaries of obsolescence as resumes. She, she isn’t thinking about you She’s got her Tesla, her twins, and her career future to worry about. She, she already...

And so once again I look at the horizon
Away from the bruising silences

Make me special-blind
Show me only my friends,
Those two or three.

Your baby, standing on her tiny wobbly legs, Staring at you, her fingers joyfully in her mouth I am like that, when it comes to you. Who are you, then? I’ve heard it said That there is a phase women go through...

I know someone
Who craves for a touch of my hand
For the sound of my voice

He said he pinched himself
Still in disbelief
That he is my husband
"Really, REALLY...!" he said.