Strott, John

Digital Commons @ Butler University

8Alone at Night I Sense My Dead WifeMists from the rain which has fallenCoats the nightIn a film-like membrane, which I mustPass throughA street light high above towers as a sentinelMaybe it knows what I am thinking ofThinking of doingDesperately craving the power to doIt glares at me like a disappointed fatherOr an offended priestIt is you I think ofAs my feet splash upon the wet pavementYou walk so clearly with meOur stride moving as oneTogether we walkAs we once didUnder a different moon/It is darkAnd a chill wind tugs at usPushing us forward, and somehow, dragging us backTrees and objects in the distanceBlend into the dark cloudsSurrounding usLike twigsOn a foggy nightSticking upright in damp mud.Gravel crunchesAs I step onto the curb before my houseI do not need to look for a lightIn the kitchen windowTo know thatNo one is home.A tired manIn a tiring lifeI fall asleep committing the unforgivableI tug and pull at your memoryLike an enraged lion on a piece of warm, bloody meatIf I could I would take you from GodBut instead I awake and leaving my chair,I go into the bedroom.--John StrottMANUSCRIITS

Alone at Night, I Sense My Dead Wife

http://digitalcommons.butler.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=3823&context=manuscripts

Alone at Night, I Sense My Dead Wife

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Digital Commons @ Butler University