Echo Finds Her Voice
Nothing new to say about love
or lust —same old, same old
broken heart and ruined dress—
crumpled bed and rumpled nylons
in a pile beside. She gathers them
to her thighs, catches the edge
of the sheer fabric in the garter belt.
Smooths the silk down over her curves,
an unfamiliar sound rising in her throat:
Fuck you! She
mutters into the glass
of spirits held to sweetly bruised lips,
where his beautiful face is mirrored,
her own words returning to her ears
over and over and over again.
