Meeting Madeline
(memories from a photo)
(memories from a photo)
I had sat on in the stale vacuum fifteen months after and I shared sheets, she slept with it was found that You had lain on my legs nearly burst my reservoir I whispered It was all I could do in front of you, in front of your mother's You became a ray of hope wondering was going to work
the wooden bench courthouse hallway, the last time, your mother which was two weeks before the policeman—that was before my breast would warm your cheek. as I cooed. Your content smile of tears. softly. not to cry fearing that you would too accusing attorneys. as I drank myself to sleep, how survival in my new life.
Billy Thrasher is a poet and graduate of the MFA program at Lindenwood University. He writes at home in his office, at the coffee shop, at the park, and in his car during lunch breaks. The simple, brief moments in life catch his attention and spark his creativity. He has poems published in Moon Magazine and Lagom A Journal.