Never by Susan Tepper
Will these wars never end. When I ask, you give me the evil eye. Sometimes pounding the table. I almost believe you wish they’d go on forever. It’s my line of work, you say. Drinking down your whiskey with more gusto. Who are you trying to convince, dear Petrov. When is enough enough. I never have enough potatoes in the cellar to fill my stomach during winter. By springtime I am considerably thinner. Do you think that’s enough. When I ride my horse through the rooms clutching his warmth. Would you call that enough. I have prayed many times not to waken. Inside your tent in the freeze, dear Petrov, have you ever implored the same. You cannot clutch a musket for warmth or solace. Were I blessed with nowness I could live in the moment live in each moment of minute content,
