by Stephen Jarrell Williams
Near dawn I'm sitting on the edge of bed,
everything with a tinge of black
pulling me back into the night,
you're behind me breathing hot on my neck,
your hands snaking around to my belly,
pressing hard against me
your cool breasts...
California fires burning on TV and you
lasting like a line of flame across the entire valley,
never forgetting this
our last night together
sprinkling ashes of glowing orange outside the window,
bed squeaking like an old woman,
you thinking
you'll never be alone,
mountainsides burnt with stumps of trees and bushes
once strong and green,
canopied by an arc of tainted sky.
Near dawn I'm sitting on the edge of bed,
everything with a tinge of black
pulling me back into the night,
you're behind me breathing hot on my neck,
your hands snaking around to my belly,
pressing hard against me
your cool breasts...
California fires burning on TV and you
lasting like a line of flame across the entire valley,
never forgetting this
our last night together
sprinkling ashes of glowing orange outside the window,
bed squeaking like an old woman,
you thinking
you'll never be alone,
mountainsides burnt with stumps of trees and bushes
once strong and green,
canopied by an arc of tainted sky.
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