Jean Passarelli
Empty Nest
the parenthetic of parted thighs.
the white of white of an open midday window,
transverse in the sheets we try and fly,
all the while the Allegheny autumn ache growing in us, where winter is now a culture.
No one ever speaks of the time children make you older -
all those sandwiches we don't have to make any more
with cheap peanut butter and expensive jam.
when time was marked by big box calendars on the wall
and the relentless, now relented, seemed infinite.
Bio
Jean is lifelong Chicagoan, who chose her apartment based on the perfect window for her writing desk. he is proud of her various Poetry and Flash acceptances over the years - and happy to add Muse-Pie Press to the list! She is reluctantly retired, but openly enjoying grandparenting, travel, and cooking and foodie endeavors in the best city for it.