Poems

By the Sink

I wish I could hug you by the sink,
where the broken window leaks cold air
upon your shoulders as you wash the dishes.
You pretend prettiness,
but you’re rusting more than ever.
In the murky room near the exit
my ruminations turn inward.
Outside the window, a flock of grey geese
disappears into the empty sky.
Later, in my soft sheets,
I long to hear a loving voice
emerge from your empty mouth.

c. Triada Samaras 2024