Author's Commentary
More chicken weather...
If you wondering about the first one, it's in a seperate deviation. Realized after posting it, since these are all one-verse poems, that I should just post them in bunches. So, here's some more.
Wine bottles with
twist-off lids,
rain drops tapping
at the windows.
She never understood
what her mother meant
when she said,
"It's chicken weather."
====
It's dark outside,
the clock glows 3:22,
The car radio plays
like background noise,
she dangles a cigarette
out the passenger window.
He's in the convenience store,
angry, because
"it's too damn early
to be buying birth control."
====
She left in her wake
a pile of broken glass and ash
on the wooden floor.
He picks up the largest piece
of the shattered ashtray,
places it on the table,
and lights another.
====
A reflection:
a streetlight in a puddle.
When will I forget her?
====
The eye of the storm
passes over, and
the ceiling is silenced.
She wipes imaginary dust
from the top of her desk,
her last refuge from chaos;
straightens blank papers,
arranges unsharpened pencils.
====
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