Sarah Awad  © 2016 All Rights Reserved

You Donít Have to Die Well for Me #88

Eight-eight minutes late & Iím swimming to you in my mind & Iím forgetting to breathe & Iím forgetting to open my eyes to spot you, but my whole body is searching for your arrival. I want you to put your mouth on mine & once again re-inflate me to the tension level of your choosing. I want us to float together & if youíre floating elsewhere, without me right now, then I am certain to see the red flashes of air leaving to leave & never return. Each opening is a quick-cut to a new world rising around me & this valley is mostly flood & this flood is faceless.


You Donít Have to Die Well for Me #90

Ninety minutes late & the children are at the window again & the dogs are barking & I am barking too & if this is my chorus now, Iím not sure how much it will matter if youíre the one opening the door right now.

Darren Demaree
Copyright © 2016  

Darren C. Demaree is the author of five poetry collections, most recently The Nineteen Steps Between Us (After the Pause Press, 2016). He is the managing editor of the Best of the Net Anthology and Ovenbird Poetry. He is currently living in Columbus, Ohio with his wife and children.

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