Sonja Broderick - Driver

The side of his face.
The side of his head.
The side of his life
He wants me to hear.
Ginger hair, golden.
Boy yet man.

The car speeds
His riddles feed
Me with fire.
His griefs and joys
Are mine for now.

I know what will come
Of this.

I feel his hand tremble
Through my hair.

We talk of weather.
His eyes ripple pools of morning
Cried from Summer skies.

I am not ready.

But I’m not sure if I can
Wait one more lifetime,
My married love.

Sonja Broderick

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