You know,
I can’t picture the boughs of ivy
Without your face
Our house keys shiny in your palm,
Your hands soiled, unfit for a fortune teller
Crack open a beer, this is our place
And you laugh, a ribboned psalm
And you gasp, a liberated sigh
Greeting me in every one of your beautiful thoughts
We order McDonald’s, we clean the Formica
With their brutally cheap napkins
And you feed me fries
The moon is almost full in her sweltering Aries phase, the dutiful woman on fire
And nothing inside me cries
More than this shifting desire
Copyright ©️ Kimberly Virga 2026