skulking, sulking

skulking' sulking

i brew tiny
storms outside
her unit

glow from TV
show- 
broadcast gross on walls,
in widow

hums of happy man
strolled by pug
gnaw at my
lobes, irksome as shitfaced
lover’s smooch

i cringe.

tune nearly
familiar, not foreign
enough, grows fat then
faint.

rolled-up sleeves,
mid-forearm loosen and
slip much as brow drips

sweat creeps from
underarms as night
breeze teases, cock
lamed and lax

if she whiffs 
my woe, she’ll
expose at pane

to slam lit window
dark again.

© Anthony Gorman 2018

 

springing

spring 4

bright drips
from secret
faucets

onto rusty
carpets
in ramshackle
huts

bringing spring
to musty
closets

dust and
mold, hold
blossoms hostage

’till sun’s
ransom’s paid
in full, and
then some.

© Anthony Gorman 2018