Friday, May 12, 2017

Sudden as Adultery

In the place where tumbleweeds
roll along nothing but humiliation
and scads of blisters gone scab,
everyone can see what everyone
already knows: the wind wrongs
scorched evenings into a used up
tan of desperation so hot our red
sweat dries before it falls. Spittled
curses, all the anger we can find,
a few dry yellow plants, and spite
fill the only space remaining in us,
a space of shade and conversation
raging hot against the unusual still,
where floodwater flowers bloom
then die as suddenly as adultery,
bright, a passion never fully shared
and strangely sweet between sheets
balled into fists. What comes next?
Secret pleadings for a soft explanation,
an ever-sting at the center of our core,
and the aching understanding of this:
everything lives to be gone for good.

Included in my chapbook "The Allness of Everything" (Maverick Duck Press)

(To learn more about "The Allness of Everything," click here.)

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