He had meant to say witch
but lost the w somewhere between
Colchis and Corinth. The word chips
the back of his teeth on the way out.
Could he fan it away or
breathe it in like smoke?
She eyes him like a cancer
just starting to spread.
He regards her like the first
dark cloud in the sky. Now,
years later, they know without
saying. They have nothing
to give each other but
this: words that fall just short
of leaving, that thunder
like a crew going down with the ship.
Copyright © 2019 Maya Phillips
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Four Way Books.