We’re making love in the afternoon
to a rumble of thunder
and pelting rain. School
pickup still an hour away,
somewhere beyond
the bedroom window fog.
Outside a dog barks, wind
scrapes an overhanging branch
over the tin roof—nails
down a chalkboard. Inside
it is warm and we are not
fifteen years wed, but teens
fumbling under single bed sheets,
hoping the world will look away
for awhile.

Forums: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.