Do you remember the heat-stroked evenings we laid
spent like wrinkled bills exchanging hands
for the last pint of beer?
How it rained every night but we
held one another by each other’s dream through it?
Now, the sky bats an angry, mascaraed eye
in my direction. Nothing but your presence
has changed. There are many modes
of dying – many having already been tried –
and the rain on the roof keeps me awake, alive.
It’s not the storm, but the weighted patience, lonely and worrisome, in receiving its sentence:
the horizon alchemized into charcoal dust
while the last remaining light is slivered.
Wasted – again – I stumble into the open
chaos of monsoon and lifted tree limbs.
I have decided now is as good a time
as any to die. I lie down
on my back in the torrential darkness.
I open my mouth to catch the rain
but I do not drown; only drink.
Samuel J Fox is a bisexual poet and essayist living in the Southern US. He is poetry editor at Bending Genres, creative nonfiction reader at Homology Lit, and frequent reviewer at Five 2 One Magazine. He appears in coffee shops, dilapidated places, and graveyards depending. He tweets (@samueljfox).