by Lisa Low
It’s always hard to
leave. Shy, I stand far
back. If my husband
hugs her, I turn away,
fumble with the lock.
It’s better for me
if the beloved makes
the move, and that time
she did, my heart pounding
quick at the sudden
prick and shock of it.
“A kiss,” I said
shaking, in a cold
sweat and suddenly
quiet, “from Klayis.”
© 2023 Lisa Low All rights reserved.
Click or tap here to see Lisa Low’s profile.
Use the “Leave a Comment” form below to submit comments on this piece.