Your Apology


Flowers wouldnt do it.
Too transitory
like you.

Not diamonds either,
hard cut, immutable angles,
too transparent.

Or emeralds set in a necklace.
A victims best dream,
being choked by opulent amends.

Nor five-star vacations
where youd sip a glint of victory
and Id be appetizer and dessert.

Not for every dish
washed by suddenly
slavish hands, pleading...

well... maybe if you scrubbed
pans with your face.
That might soften you enough.

But one tear
rolling slowly
down the hollow of your cheek.

That would do.


- Judith Pordon