infidelity in atlantic city

i watched your ancient father beat a man to death

while a dog had blood covered puppies

and a woman who was your wife

screamed at me for stealing cigarettes

i don’t want to but i have to quit you

knowing full well where this is headed

me crumpled on the floor like your armani shirt

and you on a plane remembering the taste

of a younger woman’s eagerness

just another night for you but for me

it’s another mistake

the kind that leaves me with a

black eye and a broken heart

no matter how often i’ve felt this

no matter how hardened i think i am

i always toss and turn and

drown in a thousand goodbyes

win harms

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One thought on “infidelity in atlantic city”

  1. There is some excellent imagery in this poem–the blood covered puppies; only a poet’s mind would remember or conjur that image. We wonder is that the beauty of a simple, natural birth, amongst all the brutality and decay implied, or a shocking image to support how fucked up and fucked over the voice of the poem feels. Whatever—it works for me, especially if I don’t analyze it too much. Good job!

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