A Poem: We Have Lost | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Chronogram Magazine
you wear white and
I do too
a shear white cotton shirt
wrinkled
soft

the windows are open
roses bloom from the
garden
I can see your nipples large and round
through your blouse

when you sit in my lap and
kiss me your mouth
is open

outside our clothes are pinned to
a clothesline
white blouses white
pants
I’m fairly sure we have lost all our money

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