I sleep in my son's bed,
his comforter billowing
over me like meringue,
the poems of Che Guevara
under my pillow.
When my wife comes home,
she lets the dog in,
the dog who loves me
unconditionally. What did
Che call his apolitical friends?
Drunks, singing, their throats
about to be cut. The dog
loves me for myself, morose,
apolitical, the tang of penicillin
on my skin & he scuttles
down the hall, wondering
where I am, finally
wriggling the comforter
aside & draping himself
over my head like
someone's flung beret.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Strep Throat by Jefferson Carter )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Weeping Under The Rain, Tony Adah
- EVEN More Cosmic Than That~~~, Monk E. Biz
- No Place Nation, Xavier Cole
- Dream Another Dream, Xavier Cole
- CITY OF LOVE 10 WORD, Beryl Dov
- Polyamory, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- HEARTBREAK 10 WORD, Beryl Dov
- Multiple children, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- If I Had a Voice, Lee Gelis
- Together, Kindred velarde