Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Against My Window

Against My Window


No rain appears across fields
that roll gold to the wind break
hazy sky over blue mountains 
sheers billow in on breeze
moisture coming I hear his truck
grind up the road kicking dirt
while I watch by the window
he's been gone three days
his customary practice for which
he allows no conversation
I suppose I should be happy
that he returns home to me
takes me to bed and pounds 
out his fury upon me

No rain appears across fields
burned to brown to the wind break
clouds over blue mountains
sheers lash in gusts
lightening strikes I hear his truck
grind up the road kicking clouds
while I wait by the window
he's been gone three days
his customary practice for which
he allows no conversation
today he gets his chance to talk
rain is here sheeting in rivulets
running quick to gully washers
flushing everything away 

2 comments:

  1. very powerful poem - I like the repetition

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  2. The scenery descriptions are incredible and the abuse striking in this scene. So powerful it sends shivers down my spine.

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