The Losing Side

A Poem

Photo by Jesse Collins on Unsplash

Hauled over to the side of your madness
to be given your list of chores
Sitting around naked isn’t one of them
Tough branches swat the top of the house
reining you in from your dreams
The lips of your woman wrapped around
syllables, a tight exposition of sound
that you still think are coming out of you
The metrics got fucked: no one was keeping
track of our conversations
so no evidence now for feelings, for the anguish…