Stephanie Guo

Stained Sepia

You will know it

When you smell her oolong

Staining your windows sepia –

When you realize Clorox

Was not made for scrubbing.

You will know it

When you finger the uneven line breaks

Of your broken aubade –

When you trade sense for solace.

You will know it

When you begin to believe

That her yellow tulips

Spurt black petals,

When her garden gloves

Are found and misplaced

And found once again –

All in the same breath:

When you taste your promontory

Overlooking a senseless sea