NaPoWriMo day 13

The Wonderfully Long, Hot Summer

Tonight in my wrists a firefly
bats like a pulse. The hospital,
a place of constant hazard.

And over the wires you are a more
lucid mishap; a bargain, a stack of
mass and sweat with a name.

A man and a woman, we’re
pinning down our vistas,
play-acting house and faking it well.

When you visit, we don’t talk.
You are dead. When you
visit me, you are dead.

What did I do to deserve this
habit of a lifetime? Falling back
out of love before a man falls

back in love with me.


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