Thursday, December 5, 2019

Cinderblock Kisses . by Ryan Quinn Flanagan



When she can’t find you with her lips
she gets angry,
throws sleepless pillows around 
like hated circus acrobats.

Makes up a false urgency.
Reassures you that her male roommate 
is gay.

It is then that you begin to feel it.
Those cold cinderblock kisses against your face.
As if your rough hands are back working construction.

In a darkened bedroom this time.
The sheets kicked around like an abused 
woman.




Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many bears that rifle through his garbage.  His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly,The Rye Whiskey Review, Outlaw Poetry Network, Under The Bleachers, The Dope Fiend Daily and In Between Hangovers.



No comments:

Post a Comment

Come By Tim G.Young

  in the cadillac i shot my load off the highway on a dusty road the sun going steady with a big black cloud a dog by the fence howling loud...