Nov/Dec 2018 • Vol. XL No. 6 Poetry |

Friend Shift

I’m trying to forgive my friend who arrives like a bleeder in an ambulance. I should minimize my exposure, as to a bad virus or too much sun. I’m always the shadow, the “local talent,” sweeping the floor, feting her even when my new baby had just come home. I was gulping cranberry ginger ales in dazed thirst to restore myself as she uncorked another dark-green bottle, put her thumb in the deep punt of the heavy bell-shaped bottom, and poured herself more red.

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