Waiting on Winter

Moon Man 2
By JL Martindale

The dead yard begs for a shampoo of rain
Our red brick patio, bleached, gasps for shade
You and I sit sweaty, sucking ice cubes
that taste like yellow onions you froze and I forgot

In front of the twenty dollar fan, I dream past Octobers
cool enough for pumpkin pie and hot cider. I don’t even like apple cider.
Dear, you say, we’re running out of ice.

The cats sprawled on bathroom tile, look at me, accusingly.
I’m sorry, I say to them, to you, to no one. I am sorry.
We said we’d build from this, take this house and make it home
It was supposed to bring us together.

But instead, we sit opposite each other, seething, sucking ice.
Maybe it will be better when snow falls on acrylic landscapes
that hang over headboard horizons.

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 )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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 )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: