So much water pouring from the ceiling,
And non down below,
Swinging bodies hushed together
In a sundown glow,
I think he wanted me like I’d
Wanted him all along,
Continental differences now evaporate between long
sighs and the sight of raw flesh
And soul,
Rolling between sheets and memories of cold
Bus rides, and train rides, and lonely walks home,
The irony the of Thursday’s non love poem now let’s itself be shown.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s