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We Slid Like Molasses
Folder:
NEW STUFF Poems 2020
Tell them we died
in late evening while the band still lingered
over their cocktails
and rhythms slid like molasses
over moon-tanned shoulders and under stilettos.
Lilacs wafted from her hair as she tapped a heel.
I imagined what my mother would say
and I suppose we gathered glances
like some do sea shells
and held them just as tightly.
