by D.S. Jones
We’ve danced all night in the ashes of our love
The only stains on the new mattress are from my coffee in the mornings or her wine before I get home
The only electricity running through these sheets come from the phone cords I weaved through open holes in the box spring
The lightening strikes on hurried trips to the front room
Your head on the pillow slipping off the couch
My head up my own ass in the garage
My hands on a wrench instead of your hips
Both of us looking down as we enter the room
Looking away at every car passing the street
Is that him in there?
Is that her?
The clouds hang grey and angry above
Asking …. in a bright light of recognition, bright enough to cut across the dullest day ….
Will it rain or will the wind finally blow this all away?
Poems by D.S. Jones are available to read in Painting Lines On The Highway To Hell. Available now exclusively for Kindle.