by Michael Manerowski
I am thinking of you
as cars and trucks pass
by my window
I am thinking
of you
as cars and trucks pass
by my window
I am thinking
of you
people walk by with cake boxes
dogs on leashes
smoking cigarettes
arguing over what restaurant soup
they’d just spooned
into their mouths
dogs on leashes
smoking cigarettes
arguing over what restaurant soup
they’d just spooned
into their mouths
while I am thinking of you
the absence of you
like the memory of a flower
a smear of dark red
through tarnished leaves
the sun is setting on rust brown
brick apartment buildings
the windows facing west
fill with a golden sheen
the tops of trees
tawny and yellowed
in the autumn evening
flame
and I
am thinking of you
the absence of your flowing hair
the plum curves
of your lips
and I will be
thinking of you
since I cannot be
with you
when someone above closes
the lid on a wooden box
and darkness covers me
clamps me
and no one
nothing moves
the night
Michael Manerowski’s writing has seen publication most recently in The American Journal of Poetry, The Laurel Review, and will be forthcoming in I-70 Review and The Briar Cliff Review. He holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Hamline University.
Hawaii Pacific Review 