a poem a day for a year #261

by Amy Turn Sharp


all the advice in the world won’t heal a broken heart
only the spinning of the clock
beds on fire
blackout Saturday nights
lips and hips and books and breakdowns
someday you’ll be in a taxicab
rain running down
window pane
your mind wandering
to the nape of her neck
his giant hands
some city
green eyed gambler
flashes of sex on sofas
brave sweat
open laugh
tiny tears
only you won’t cry
you’ll just get out of the car
and walk down the street
into the future