I need to work on this poem for workshop Monday, but I have to have it in Professor Smith's folder today (not that it would matter because it's all ice and slush outside anyway). I'm not sure if all of the changes I made to it work or not, so I need some outside opinions, all suggestions are greatly appreciated.
Coffee Rings
And in that moment,
that ripple of time,
we were naked
and blowing smoke
rings.
But by those
moonbeams,
we are as a
photograph.
Like your photograph,
in your threadbare
envelope.
Your hands stained
with ink
of a thousand words
before.
You damned English
teacher –
Side effect: proper grammar.
We’re dry-ice
glaciers
covering ourselves in
corduroy and denim.
We’re sublimating,
evaporating,
disappearing from the
world.
Fading like the
photos too long folded
to render any accurate
images,
hidden from the
critical eyes.
Old black and whites
reminding us
of midnights and full
moons
revealing white ghost
images
of the world-weary
people we once were.
Polar opposites,
you and I.
We’re threadbare
with ink-stained
doorknobs.
We’re poor,
we fabricate truths.
With moonbeams and
photographs
our only evidence.