“Listen he says to the way I’ll never kiss you again. Whistle of a train breaking from the floorboards, music of wet cement, sweet Black and Mild through a vent, and this is not the end, but it is almost the end. The something still to be done. The pruning of shrubs. Do anything. Please.”— Michelle Dominique Burk, narrativemagazine.comTagged: Poetry, Unloving Someone, Brokenness, Letting Go, sounds