What Meth Did by C. Cimmone

Late at night
When my children
Are sleeping next to me
I sift through photos of him.
His body,
Plump and peach
Makes me miss him;
And for a moment
I think the breath next to me
Is his
I fall into the photo
And I can hear his voice-
Strong and clean.
I can see his eyes-
Kind and calm.
I wish I could pull him
Out of the photo
And bring him home.


ABOUT THE POET

C. Cimmone is an author and comic. She serves as a reader for Marias at Sampaguitas, Editor-at-Large of Trampset and a contributor for Arouse. Her narrative prose has been published in a menagerie of literary journals. Her chapbook, When I Was Alive, is available on Amazon. When Cimmone grows up, she wants to be a reclusive writer who only ventures out on Thursday nights to stand-up comedy in the city. She is alive and well on Twitter @diefunnier. 

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