Mike Bell/ August 3, 2016/ 0 comments

By the time he drank it     the ice had melted
maybe a sign of unsaid things

of melting love    in a with-held union
with no more appeal to committed rings

but such their marriage    a slow adjustment
into an agreement    which was seldom agreed

a removal of impulse    within the contract
adjusted to halt his scattering of seeds

To bed    and back-turned    sleeping positions
no parsed ‘goodnight’    no actual speaking

and into sleep    he sinks in frustration
finding this night

love without waking.

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