Torsade Literary Space Sans Serif (poem)
Sans Serif
She’s crushed her fingertip under a trunk lid
One purple nail the adornment of her hand
No rings and nothing else
Just this, playing across the jacketless blank
“I’m hating this,” she tells him
She has a book with a hard grey cover
Two gritted fangs forbid the eye
Looked I don’t know, a whim of hers
On the table, a nickel’s worth of care
“I’ll let you read it if you want.”
It’s that way, her distance as to pain
She hears herself but doesn’t hear
He peers, and hardly can make out
A title mar the spare slash of design
He will, and doubts he’ll know for it
What she hates, and why she hates
Sans Serif
A Little Joy
(2017, Stephanie Foster)