Rob Wilson Engle
I don’t know what to do when I’m not missing anyone
except to think
that I once fell in love
with a bad woman.
If you’ve ever been in a pinewood charged with needle
it’s impossible not to. A bough breaks.
The snow comes
and humbles me.
Delicate and small. Falling
together into something secure.
Today, I’m left in bed with my thoughts
and my body
cock sticking to my thigh
limbs twisted into sheets
like a fantasy.
Sometimes it’s possible
not to be disappointed in love.
Just open your stomach when a train goes by.