An Eruption of Snowy Owls

The night you dropped the jelly jar.

The day we opened the pressure cooker
to find the red beans full of cooked worms.

The way we fitted together under the comforter
and the smell of sex on my hands in the morning.

The way you rocked side to side, hypnotic,
under the fine, hot spray of the shower head.

Someone talking about an eruption of snowy owls.

Advertisements

Published by

Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s