Francine Witte Late August Evening

Francine Witte _______________________________________

Blue moon in the sky, full / for the second time this month.

Just like us, meeting for another / try at love. We sit at our favorite

restaurant, order our favorite meal – / garlic pasta, buttery bread and halfway

through you are certain it’s over. The / rest of our dinner going untouched and me

watching your face, now fallen out of love, / your voice talking about everything

that isn’t us. The waiter remembers / our favorite dessert—tiramisu and two

romantic spoons. I want to warn the knowing / smile from his face. Instead, I take a bite,

sweetness going dead on my tongue. I look / at your hands, skittery birds about to fly.

Meanwhile, outside, the second chance moon / continues to shine, flickering in and out

of the sky, hidden, then not, behind / a balled-up fist of clouds.