Morgan Michaels

The Overnight - Poem by Morgan Michaels

The overnight was accidental and just happened. He fell asleep because it was impossible not to. Maia neither encouraged nor objected. It just happened.

At three o'clock in the morning he woke, n-ked, and swung his legs over the bedside. Gradually, he became fully conscious. Listening to Maia's light snoring, he realized he'd been dreaming of UFO's. Far off, you heard samba music and conga drums (because it was Friday night) . There were shouts, too, and staccato from exhaust pipes that sounded like gun-fire, but different; then, a siren wail, which, had he known the difference, he would say resembled european more than American siren- more functional and less hysterical, even in the distance. He sighed, knowing the overnight would give his wife much ammunition to complain with. He did not wish to give her so much ammunition, knowing it would make her watchful. She might even leak the grievance to her father, the general, whose ire would be vented, next time they spoke. He might even hiss 'was it worth it? . Well, was it? He looked over at Maia...

Topic(s) of this poem: love

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, August 7, 2014

Poem Edited: Friday, August 14, 2015

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