Skip to content

Night Train to Domestic Living Arrangements

In my own mind you have put me

beside compunction. Re-worked

this mourning room where looking

smacks of mother may I

though to this day I

falter when you hold tow.

Throw me over your deep end

with some faith next time,

as if to lend some bother to the vex.

I’ve always wanted to be grown up

like a bureaucrat, a berth-rider

ordering night caps over the Rockies.

But you keep insisting on day planners,

bodies flat out. Which means, for example,

a random plea. Do some dishes

and get back to me. I’m waiting

at the ripping point

breast in hand, a broken spine

like any sign of care.