Rob S. Friedman
October 2022
A Guide to American Letters
After all the time Torn between them, Hester, Come sit with me, Rest with me by the rivulet, Its cool water coursing lightly Over our toes. You don’t know all the time I imagined what Arthur whispered To you after yet another day Of Roger’s churlishness. I have no sense of what he said, Or how he said whatever it was that led To Pearl. Hold my hand, dear Hester. Pulse that memory of the moment, Of the rush you felt, The flush that negated Roger And let it flow to me. For that is my desire, bold Hester, To know the words, to swallow them, So that I too can learn to navigate The prism of your heart.
Rob S. Friedman 