by Francesca Lia Block

this spring is like that man in the white
shirt
radiating heat even from his thumbs
standing so close we steal each other’s air
a wedding band glaring on his finger

the air is overstuffed with white
blossoms
oversweet
just as my head feels too full of words
and there’s a rawness in my chest a hope
mixed with resignation
that this will be my final chance
for poetry and …

winter was easier in some respects
watching the branches bare
in too much pain to feel desire
shivered in an empty tub

spring—like the words “my marriage is trying
to find a graceful way to die”
making me realize there’s still a thing
that beats in there
and also wishing
thump-thump-thump
it had never learned this fact

—from Rattle #41, Fall 2013
Tribute to Single Parent Poets