RHIANNON BRIGGS

So there I was at the red light waiting
to turn left on a hometown street, looking through
shop windows and suppressing from conscious thought
each wish for the glass to cave in whenever
I’m not around. My left hand blocking the sun
and my right scribbling something of you
in the margins of my to-do list. And only
halfway through, the light turned! Yes,
you were on my mind that afternoon,
and curling against your chest, and radio static,
the lowing of a nearby storm.

​

I paused for a moment,
you know, before I lifted
my foot from the brake.