September 16, 2014 § Leave a comment

I stumble across a box of condoms in her handbag
(while in search of a stolen cigarette, no less)
and it is open. The torn cardboard a little abyss,
the discarded plastic like snakeskin, a reminder –
something was; something is; something’s
And after the tiny jolt and prickle of
newness, the day goes on.

Nicole Best


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