Morning Sonnet

The following piece was presented at Jersey City Writers’ literary event – 800 Dirty Words. Please enjoy.

A sonnet he recites while soaping up:
the meter scrapes his mind clear of debris.
The rhyme is coffee steaming in his cup.
The woman changes his topography.
The softness of his robe recalls her flesh.
He fingers the newspaper like her thigh.
Traces of her permeate his breath,
yet the bed is empty on her side.
The mattress, still impressioned with her shape,
creaks when he sits and struggles with his shoes.
He wonders how long he will have to wait
before her skin discolors in a bruise.
He slid himself inside her, left a mark,
so he can find his way back in the dark.


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