The Ex—-Peter

Afflicted mind.
Some old woman knitting
in a brittle rocking chair.
Mothballs mixed with
white stubble on her upper lip.

Heavy lids weighted
pain, sorrow
the clicking sound of
knitting needles.
Hollowed out
darkened corners
pungent odors swarming
by lantern light.

Gnawing
secrets slither
through mouse holes
damp air.
Tinged in green
and nicotine stains
peeling walls.

Once upon a—-
Wistful Wendy
tripped on her cheroot
was left behind.