On the Porch


By jgrey10233

Your skin
attracts late afternoon sunlight
endows flesh with the translucence
of an upstairs window.

I’d believe the day ends,
and the night begins with you
if I didn’t know better.
I confess I know no worse.

A man tucked under sheets,
a roach oozing from floorboards,
one snores,
the other scrambles toward
the crumbs under the bed,
both give every indication
of how they plan to spend
the night

Cat slaps the bird around,
snaps its back
before devouring the flesh.
Sometimes, there’s a cruel streak
to hunger.

John Grey has recently published work in Nebo, Euphony and Columbia Review with work upcoming in Leading Edge, Poetry East and Midwest Quarterly.


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