the way you struggle off to work each morning makes me think it’ll be ok


the way you struggle off to work each morning makes me think it’ll be ok


the way you pull yourself out of bed every morning

before I do harnessing pure dread to manipulate gravity

causing you to fall up and sort of sideways towards

your parts of the closet instead of down the way you

open the bedroom door and stare


down seven hungry jungle cats to get to the bathroom

the sound of the shower sputtering into action and the

shock of warm water dressing you up in shampoo suds

and post seven a.m. drenching the way the walls move

to please you when you return once


again to the bedroom to stand: an army general

surveying the heavy rack of loyal wardrobe troops

clothes pick themselves out for you as you curse the

gods of this particular work day and bend down

to kiss me before issuing the command to charge


out the front door where the world has it coming

inspiring me to action I throw on what’s necessary and

follow you berserker screaming, there will be wounds

naturally but we’ll patch each other up between

5 and 5:30


my love is so thick for you

it sticks to walls




(from The Night We Called Dennis, Amber Lodge Press, 2005)

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