The Long Familiar

You left hair in the tub, toothpaste splatter on the mirror, a wadded towel on the rod, wet footprints on the floorboards marking a stumble to the kitchen where you guzzled milk from the carton, there with the door open, cold spilling out like flumes to your feet – and I loved it. A sudden […]

On Marriage and Commitment

And if the pieces fell tonight, would I reassemble, or smash another window, for doors swing neat the parting? Would I grease the pavements slick, glide skated to the next time? No, I stick to the walls like orange tar, loosed by the fumes of us, thin, waxen, inflamed and layered by the smoke of […]