Poems from thedavidmeni
At five in the morning
the sound of an ice cube
hitting the bottom
of a mason jar...
It used to be
lying across the backseat, eyes tight,
feeling the turn onto your street and up the driveway,
hearing the hum of the garage...
I am Satellite to a radiant singularity of gravity--
Gravitas;
when you leave our bed I am a solitary crag of lumpy planetoid
thrown...