One Night Stand

I can’t with waking yellow eyes
see who I went to bed with,
nor smell him or touch him,
when night we entered
is stranger. A plague upon
you, he wakes, and I once
watched my husband
curse on a mountain,
holding a plaque,

(did he say plaques?)

while the books I read
all titled He Held Me
missed words and were about how
I could not discover his name
until I authored them. That smell,
my goodness,
it’s the musty

(musky?)

smell of books (him) that sniffs
back his face and his old
unnerving display
of despair. I forgot
he’s not a danger, he’s
the man I love, and
the tock of our synchronized
clocks tick less and less
the few days we have left.

#NaPoWriMo 2016 Day 28

Published by

Richard Leis

Richard Leis is a writer and poet living in Tucson, Arizona. His poetry has been published in Impossible Archetype. His essays about fairy tales and technology have been published on Tiny Donkey and Fairy Tale Review’s “Fairy-Tale Files“.