Two Nightmares in My Car on Rosewood

I.

A shadow figure outside the Ford’s locked door.
He jiggles the handle
hey can you drive me to Santa Clarita
I said no I have been drinking whiskey
which was a lie
he said let me in
I did not

II.

When I wake for a walk in the middle of the night,
clothes bunched on red benches under streetlights
like someone had been there
and disappeared

III.

I call my ex
I can’t stop thinking about you

shadows float from her eyes
into mine

cigarette smoke

bats

understand: we lived
in the cave of each other

IV.

under orange streetlights

blankets hang from headrests
to drape me from the world

 

(originally published in The Nottingham Review, Fall 2017)

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The Star Exhales One Final Breath

I’ve written the last
I can about you.

No more spirits in this blue-and-gray
jacket with the familiar coffee stain.

Out of poetry and time to spare.
Like December’s brisk spit of snow.

The lack of wonderment.
And truth.

 

(originally published in Corvus Review, Fall 2016)