Submissions by expatriate

It is Sunday, no reason to leave the bed

I pull the blanket about my shoulders

And stare at the ceiling

You loved Sundays and came to me

With toothpaste kisses and

Warmed your feet against mine

You loved putting your head on my shoulder

And suggesting things we could do

Museums and shows, exhibits and parks

There was no limit because it was Sunday

And you loved Sundays



There were days when your eyes were soft

Saying “Love me or I’ll die”

And days when passion clawed...

sit there, arms folded about your knees

sit there and sulk

and still you are beautiful even when your mood

settles on your face like bad makeup

your glances dance with the fire of your anger

and your tongue spews threats and accusations

but your beauty shields me from all harm

and i find wonder even in your wrath



cry. . . . blackmail me with tears knowing my heart

is your ransom already paid

advertise your disappointment with a trembling lip

and sniff your sadness with jerky breaths...