Monday, November 13, 2006

Sunday Nights

I hold his throat in my hand
and I feel it vibrating. We sit this way for long moments as I
drink rum and watch Jeopardy. Sometimes he falls asleep.

Sometimes I hold so still my cigarette
burns down to my knuckles.

I have the scars to prove it.


Valerie Loveland said...

Nice last line.

I've only seen longer poems on your blog. Do you write shorter poems like this very often?

Christine said...

I have a couple that are shorter. About 10 -15 percent. I want to fix the line breaks in this one. ehh.

Thanks for the compliment!