a poem a day for a year #172

by Amy Turn Sharp


when you argue with me
when we fight
and a perfectly good summer evening
is wasted
like garbage
like missed connections
overripe fruit
the sun in the most glorious rivers across the floor
down the walls
on the baby like a spotlight

and we are together apart
pushing thoughts around 
wishing we would have said more
less
nothing
telling weather stories to the kids
about how this isn't even hot
man
you have no idea how hot it can get
you can fry eggs on the sidewalk
someplaces
you can burn holes in my heart
right here