One half of my world is gone;
scarred mounds under grey skies,
and now velvety winter plains,
their rustling echoing in the
shell-smooth half of my chalk-white room.
I play the part of host.
My half-atrophied grin goes unnoticed
as we wait for a moon full as the peal of a bell.
It never comes.
To keep the time, I name my favorite odd pairs:
lilac and lead, soap and lies.
Both leave widows behind.
Delphine McGee (she/her) is a College third-year from Jersey City, NJ, majoring in Comparative Literature. She gets her passion for poetry from her mother and grandmother.
