Previous Tenant
by Kris Bigalk
In the empty apartment, under the sink,
I find an old tea cup, ancient dregs ghost brown stain
marring the bone-white bowl, a red-orange
lipstick mark on the edge, a parting kiss.
I imagine her idle, in the early afternoon,
dripping tea on the table,
a donut crumbling in her hands.
She takes a drag from
a Virginia Slim (I found the
dusty full ashtrays on the windowsill,
hidden behind the tattered lace curtains).
She wears her pale yellow chenille robe,
a careless singe mark marring the left sleeve,
the newspaper spread like a tablecloth
before her, the light from the half-open blinds
just a little too bright.
From Caveat Lector, Vol. 20, No. 1 http://www.caveat-lector.org/2001/html/2001_poetry_bigalk1.htm
by Kris Bigalk
In the empty apartment, under the sink,
I find an old tea cup, ancient dregs ghost brown stain
marring the bone-white bowl, a red-orange
lipstick mark on the edge, a parting kiss.
I imagine her idle, in the early afternoon,
dripping tea on the table,
a donut crumbling in her hands.
She takes a drag from
a Virginia Slim (I found the
dusty full ashtrays on the windowsill,
hidden behind the tattered lace curtains).
She wears her pale yellow chenille robe,
a careless singe mark marring the left sleeve,
the newspaper spread like a tablecloth
before her, the light from the half-open blinds
just a little too bright.
From Caveat Lector, Vol. 20, No. 1 http://www.caveat-lector.org/2001/html/2001_poetry_bigalk1.htm