Yesteryear
Yesteryear
We finished. The room came to rest
around us. She dressed in moonlight.
The next day we met. Coupled
in her mother’s car. Stumbled
through the mechanics of it. Lips.
Lips. Lips. Grab. Hold. Lips. Lips. Release.
We finished. The car came to rest
beneath us. I stepped out into the afternoon
to manage my pants back to my waist.
“The condom broke.”
“It’s okay. I’m clean.” The next night:
Lips. Lips. Lips…
Yesterday a friend called to say she was dead.
Killed by her husband. Strangled.
The next day we met behind my girlfriend’s body.
Lips. Lips. Lips. Grab. Hold. Lips. Lips.
Hold, hold, hold.
Come to rest.
from the collection “The Seldom Seen Kid”