Walking Down Scott Avenue at Ten P.M.
Charlotte Pence
The way the two women, 
leaned over their side-porch railings
toward one another—
almost too far forward 
                                  like water
that bulges near a glass’s lip
becomes the lip 
                       just before the fall—
chatting on the night the predicted
snowstorm neither came nor went,
air the taste of white stone
and feeling 
                as solitary…. But
the way they leaned reminded me
the world also does this: 
                                    stretches voices
and knick-knack details of our days
across the plain strips of grass
that divide homes,
                            across the cold
blamed for shutting us inside.


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