Bait
by Elizabeth Rose
In a café drinking iced tea.
Skin wet and hair coiled
by the damp Spanish sun;
a soft June-lit shadow.
Thinking about her past.
Gently lost in its prisms, the
sea-misted window holds up
a mirror to her face. Again;
It’s all there - the trappings
the bait is set, scented with
salt. Another new her is emerging.
Tentative. She places herself
halfway in –
only half way this time..
Believing she was freer before.