I stood at the stove
Boiling water in a pot
The coffee hovered in a strainer
On the kitchen table
When she burst in
And said she wanted to help with the laundry
Specifically the sheets
We stuffed what we could
Into my broken bags
And hauled the loads to the laundromat
Where we sat through the cycle
Waiting to see how the stains would turn out
Especially the sheets
I won’t easily forget that long purple skirt
When faces detach from names
And knuckles whiten with frustration
I will forget her name
As relationships slide in and out of focus
And colors fade from view
I will remember that blemish on her ribcage
Where lips lingered beyond remembering
When time stretched out its arms forever
Grant me this
A Pair of Angry Poems: sometimes it’s the shortest poems that take the most fiddling
In the Blind
When the flock arrived at last, he sat alone in the blind
with his hot cocoa and shotgun
prepared for whatever flew across the horizon.
Thoughts of the hunt brought thoughts of her
and all the other things he had ever desired.
Florida smells of deceit and betrayal
Like the corpse of a Florida panther.
The Everglades rats sprout like benign tumors.
I once killed a panther just to see it die.
It looked at me and said, “I hope you rot in Hell, you curious bastard.”
Flipping the carcass, I saw his cardiac bypass scars.
Florida smells of deceit and betrayal.