Issue # 9 April 2011
Charmaine Thomson
The penitent ring
Ne
me
quitte
pas, he sings
feeding the breadstick
To the young woman opposite
Wasting time with father time, mesmerized by his hands
The bared throat and sling backs say, I don't mind, you are still young at heart.
At the next table it's all about the marina
with vain traces of a lush life.
But it is too late
For this dress
and this
gold
ring.