Rosemary Griggs
Saint Valentine
I won you at the carnival while trying to win a poster of a cat wearing a suit.
It’s that you keep saying you’re tired makes me want to weep.
You won’t sleep when I ask,
You wish something was yours,
We are poor and I braid your soft hair.From our rooftop our eyes are turned not upward,
but to the lit windows of the pastel building across the street.
A man has been sitting at the window for hours looking one way down the street.I get warmth from your pale fingers as we huddle beneath one shawl
beneath the green and slanted moon.