It’s Me In Here
There was nothing in the kitchen
that could wake a whole neighborhood.
Water boiled but that was my story alone.
Cups clattered in the sink ~
my astrology sign versus Atlantic City –
but the crowds didn’t show.
Flowers wilted in morbid sunlight.
Food scraps congealed like hearts.
I took a fork and dug it in my palm a little.
Pain…
a word it took three tongues to say.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, Stillwater Review and Big Muddy Review with work upcoming in Louisiana Review, Columbia College Literary Review and Spoon River Poetry Review.
work to a calm 