the outside is dark and it is early. dark on my insides, my hands.
the cats are climbing steadily, stealthily, into places they do not fit.
put paw down, retract, find a bell and shake it.
we are loungers this evening, stuck between a fire station
and a hospital, & there’s no absence of sirens in our lives.
a perpetual waiting for you to come home, hoping your bones and thighs
will still vibrate with the clang of the drums, the ring of metal encased in sound.
pressed face to glass, I think about heading down many flights of stairs
to the liquor store, buying a bottle of wine, showing you my purple teeth
when you get home. you will kiss me anyways.
No comments:
Post a Comment