Selected Poems
Sipping on fire
Now, we are miles apart and sit, heated, east.
We still stare at the same damn sunset and
follow smeared, stained clouds, down as smoke, signals
to a place on fire, where home used to be.
I miss the “you”, the “you' I thought I knew
The “you” I would drive for hours to, into that sun
to catch sparks in your sideways eyes and burn.
Each Friday's sunset dies across this opened space
and lights another wound that brings me back.
The phone buzzes. Fool me twice, shame on me.
Once night comes to cool and calm a burning.
Each instant replayed, but the call on this field will remain.
I finish both whiskeys, poured and placed on the dashboard
and retire to a new house and burnt darkness.
We still stare at the same damn sunset and
follow smeared, stained clouds, down as smoke, signals
to a place on fire, where home used to be.
I miss the “you”, the “you' I thought I knew
The “you” I would drive for hours to, into that sun
to catch sparks in your sideways eyes and burn.
Each Friday's sunset dies across this opened space
and lights another wound that brings me back.
The phone buzzes. Fool me twice, shame on me.
Once night comes to cool and calm a burning.
Each instant replayed, but the call on this field will remain.
I finish both whiskeys, poured and placed on the dashboard
and retire to a new house and burnt darkness.
