Edit ModuleShow Tags

After the storm

A poem

Split branches and a tossed deck

of hackberry leaves dot our

neighborhood street. Raindrops

sprinkle city windshields and

rest on hairspray-covered heads,

fresh out of musty bedrooms.

Lights out at the corner coffee shop

where you left your yellow envelope on

the community bulletin board

and I bought a drink with cash

to dump down the storm drain

on my way out the door.

Sirens moan over cellphones

as we cuddle close under

the bathroom door jamb.