EASTERN VILLAGE WITH FACTORY

 

Dogs bark in untended fields. Outside, artificial light
Pools the road nobody's died on with men sauntering
The graveyard shift, unafraid to sing alone. I stretch out
And find I married a woman who doesn't care that they
Have picked up the ambrosial bouquet of sex—neatly
Wrapped in tissue paper—at the foot of our bed. She
Welcomes the rabid charge. Anything that reminds her
She belongs to the faint hinterland. She keeps the doors
Unlocked. I say nothing. Men or dogs. There will be no
Other end.

Daniele Pantano    07.07.2009