By Lisa Gallant


A man walks down the street 

with a child on his shoulders

big pink coat bopping

up and down 


A hat drops 

and I think 

how easily things 

can be lost


Through my side mirror

I see him stop 

turn and pick it up



In my dreams 

woman after woman 

bring me a man’s red flip flops

as if offering him back to me


The pain of loss permeates 

these dreams

I study these women’s hands

and wonder

Have they touched his face, 

his hair, 

the back of his neck?


Have they clasped his hand

in theirs, have they felt him 



I turn to look behind me

and do not bend 

to pick up the pieces



Published on September 1st, 2022




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