Unloved

Earlier today I tried to publish this poem. And it vanished. Or, if it’s here, I can’t find it. So if it’s here, then Unloved twice.

 

 

When my best friend Abby’s grandmother

difficult clean obsessed Breina

lost her husband Morris 60 years they were married

in Yiddish she said

We Never Had a Happy Day. And she immediately found

Shmuel her childhood boyfriend from Bupst. Breina

married Shmuel. And they too

were impossibly unhappy.

Esther Cohen
Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me. I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.

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