John W. McEwers

Poems by John W. McEwers : 9 / 401
Afterglow: Three - Poem by John W. McEwers
Smoke circles the ceiling fan
broken by the currents of air swirling
and descends back to us
two hot bodies and a perfect circle
of sweat stains, and we curl sideways
dropp ash to the carpet,
stub out cigarette butts
and fall awake.
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Poems by John W. McEwers : 9 / 401
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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 13, 2010
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