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'Umbrella' by John Grey



Like an umbrella,

I figure our relationship is mislaid

but then you tell me

it’s been a hundred years next April.


In a voice like a manly, energetic

flushing toilet,

I say something like

“but it’s not working out.”


You retreat into that ashen grey

look of cluelessness

where a woman becomes something

only God could love

before reddening,

then spearing me with

“what about us?”


That's when I come up with something like

love is just another religion

and I’m thinking of becoming

a confirmed atheist.

You blubber.

When it comes to tears,

I side with the cynics.


It is not my first breakup scene.

It is not yours either.

We both realize that love can only last

for as long as we keep loving.

And every life is many days,

many ways for some things to end,

others to begin.

To me, it’s remarkable that this lasted

as long as it did.

So if you pardon me, I’ll be going.

Now where did I put that umbrella?



All Rights. John Grey.


John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Stand, Poetry Salzburg Review and Ellipsis. Latest books, “Covert” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Washington Square Review and Red Weather.







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