Five Points

Fingertips strike out seconds, push

along in a jagged momentum. You,

wrapped up in blankets, poetry and

careless entropy. 

We strive to cross off our time

together. I offend you when I laugh

loudly but my quiet mouth

puts you on edge. Your chatter

marks away more light.

A bottle full of water is best left

untouched, save it for a rainy day.

I hop from one foot to the next

waiting for hours to melt me back

onto a train, heading home. 

It’s been awhile since we laughed

over vapid movies and I smelled

your raw scent.  Open a bottle

of wine, pour us a taste.  We belong

in a song’s refrain.

Six a.m. writing lines, a nest of notes

built of scrap paper bloom at the bottom

of my purse.  I promise to throw out

the next poem about rain no matter

where we wind up. 

Black ashes and oil across our foreheads

ten lives out of mind.  You are concrete

when you cough, second hand moves

only when the scaffolding comes off.

Keep talking without stopping, so what

if I’ve left the room.  A dark sky, a red hand,

a grey goose circumscribes the dull ache of living.             

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